


Vir Banal'vhenas

by Niedosytnix



Series: Ma'revas'an: Revas'enaste [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abandon all hope ye who enter here, Blood and Violence, Bond Mates, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Dark Solas, Dread wolf Vallaslin, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fen'Harel Smut, Fluff and Smut, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse, Knotting, Medium Burn, No Really- It Gets Worse, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Tension, Shapeshifting, Skip Chapter 10, Some degree of Canon-Divergence, Some sort of AU, Tagging to Scare You Away, Wolf Sex, spirits and demons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 125,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niedosytnix/pseuds/Niedosytnix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Herald of Andraste is a Dalish exile, and a mage.  The fledgling Inquisition doesn't know.<br/>
Solas does.</p><p>She was such a compelling mystery to him.  His mark on her hand was puzzling enough, how did she come by it?  Was she in league with Corypheus?  Had something gone wrong, more wrong than the obvious hole in the sky?  And on her face, something was concealed by a spell, what could this fragile creature be hiding?  During a moment alone with the change of guard he'd cast a spell to reveal her face to him and what he saw shook him to the core.  A vallaslin no Dalish would wear.</p><p>
  <i>A vallaslin that shouldn't exist outside his own memories.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which the Wolf gets some answers

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive Criticism: If you've read this, if you enjoyed it, if you didn't, if you care- consider leaving a comment, message me on tumblr, [send an ask](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/ask). Be anonymous if you want. I don't need to know who you are. But please, if you do- _Be honest_. I do not want praise, I want to know if I've fallen short.
> 
> Yes- The PSA is gone. Yes- I'm disheartened at the silence, but I understand it. No, I will not _ask_ for feedback again, though as always you are free to give it should you desire to.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, those of you who have read to the end with the intent to continue.
> 
> Tel'abelas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~So, this is probably going to be awful, and or cheesy. I haven't written anything in ages and it (definitely) shows. So... creative writing experience for me, hopefully something mildly amusing to read for you.~~
> 
> ~~If I had to truly describe this fic I'd say it doesn't know what the hell it wants to be. Not sure how to fix it, or if I should. I'll try to stop cringing at myself long enough to finish this. Either way... Take the tags as warnings. It's either going to hurt, or you're going to hate it. Probably both.~~  
>   
> 
> 3/26/16 + 1773 words  
> 1/6/17 + shhh pretend I didn't just add 1.2k words to this.  
> Thank you Kinako <3

Hints of smoke and elfroot carried on the constant waves of heat. The small pops and cracks of a fire well-tended resounded above the slight sound of water slowly struggling to boil, yet it fought for dominance over the wind-rattled din of glass and metal. Beyond that there was nothing, no sounds from the busy village- snow-muffled and silent as most had long since retired for the night. But not her, _no_. Not even the newly familiar sounds of her cabin could distract Revas from the deafening roar of her thoughts- thoughts that were quickly becoming as turbulent and terrifying as the swirling green vortex that lingered despite her best effort. _Not good enough_ , though no one said it out loud. Her chest tightened, not fast enough, not smart enough- too long had she been away from the world. Even here they all lived lives more comfortable than she had ever known. Even here… under that eerie green omen that only she survived.

A month, perhaps more had she intermittently resided in this strange ‘Haven’ tucked away in the mountains. Though ‘resided’ was decidedly a far too comfortable word for it. A month filled with new companions and followers, missions- slow progress that felt like anything but. The breach remained, fixed accusingly in the sky, mirrored in her left palm so she could not forget even when they escorted her leagues away. The thought hardened the already firm bite of her lip, a now constant affectation when she worried, and she worried often. She may not still be in chains, but this was no home of hers.

Relaxing, _right_. That’s what she was supposed to be doing. She glanced to the pot, idly shuffling around reports that still took her far too long to read. The common tongue wasn’t exactly as common as they made it sound. She cursed idly at the pot. It should be boiling properly by now. As if to simply spite her, it clearly wasn’t. This would be easier if she could just do it her way.

“Build the fire in its place _Herald_. You don’t need to build it outside _Herald_. Why is making tea so _creators-damned **hard?!** ”_ She sighed in exasperation, tossing the handful of papers as she strode to the large stone recess, attempting to adjust the pot on the strange metal hook over the fire. Mocking her ‘jailors’ usually helped, yelling blasphemy that would earn her stern looks from her kin usually helped, so did throwing things, but instead she felt vaguely guilty, her mouth sour around the title she didn't want, and now the floor was covered in more work she could only blame on herself.

It was disconcerting enough to have a fire inside a house made of wood, let alone giant green holes in the sky that were hopefully not her fault… but Val Royeaux… She still did not quite understand the political aspect of everything that had happened. Too quickly did she manage to insult everyone, Templars punched old ladies and a slew of strange women had vied for her attention. One black pot mocked her openly for being an elf of all things, one who should have been as equally dead as the Lord Seeker invited her to meet more mages, and another mocked her cryptically for not being… not being what she still wasn’t quite sure but whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. Leaving such an opulent space packed with people wasn't the relief she hoped it would be. It did not help that she had not had a moment's rest since- aided no doubt by one new addition that crudely derided everyone and everything on the long borrowed wagon ride back to Haven. She secretly hoped Varric would nickname that one ‘Headache’. And yet despite the new followers with dubious connections it did nothing to ease the overwhelming feeling that the entire trip had been for nothing. Even the normally reassuring comments from the others felt paler than usual.

“Why does everyone else have to make this look so easy?” She descended into further pointed grumbling safely under her breath, abandoning the pot to its mutiny. She cast a wary eye to the small glass window. It would be easy if she could use her magic… but heated tea was likely not worth the risk of exposure. They seemed to like her now, or well… accept her to some degree... Tolerate her, surely. It would not do to add more scrutiny to the growing list of impossible problems they expected her to fix.

Once again, the thought of running crossed her mind. Running would be easy. None of them would catch her because none of them knew what she was. It was a small comfort- too small in truth. She had nowhere else to go. This may not be her home but then there was no home for her, exiles did not get to have homes. Rest, safety, those were dreams she could not afford to hope for. Dreams themselves were another matter.

She had considered running in the beginning, nothing good ever became of her being around people for too long. She had too much to hide, her magic, her markings; even her strange dreams would likely give any faithful to the Chantry cause for suspicion, let alone the fact she was an elf which seemed to count against her heavily as is. She seemed destined for destruction despite her efforts to stay one step ahead of the darkness that seemed to chase her. Accustomed to being the eyes in the dark to fear, being thrust into the center of the shemlen faithful left her feeling perpetually wrong-footed like prey in a den of wolves. The shift in power chaffed at her, one wrong move and she’d be back in chains more mutable than the ones they placed on her with words. Perhaps she should truly consider running.

It had not even been a surprise they had blamed her for the breach; after all- her kin exiled her, branded as traitor, perhaps this was her destiny? To destroy the world entirely by accident? Her lip began to sting as her thoughts barreled on. If her former clan knew of her involvement they would’ve blamed her too. Though to the best of her knowledge she hadn’t caused such a thing; it wasn’t in her nature to destroy the fabric of reality, despite what they may think of her.

Yet against all reason she had lingered, fought daily to fit in, tried to learn their convoluted customs, and attempted to fix the tears in the world. It was exhausting, yet she had the oppressive feeling that this was precisely where she was supposed to be and that strange feeling had yet to lead her wrong. It also seemed she held the key to their salvation, or however that elven apostate had put it. She snorted lightly, scowling at the still not boiling pot. "Asspostate more like."

She couldn’t deny that she had a use to them, and she sincerely hoped it would be enough to protect her should they discover her secrets. That had puzzled her greatly, the mage who purportedly saved the mark on her hand from killing her. He’d blatantly told the Seeker she wasn’t a mage. What was he playing at? Was he blind? He had run all sorts of tests on her as she lay unconscious, or so she heard. The thought sent an unbidden shiver down her spine. He seemed far too sharp to not know, there had to be something else. Perhaps he was going to blackmail her? To place her at his mercy unless she wanted him to expose her? She had tried to watch him closely, however, every time she thought it safe to look his way, he was already covertly gazing searchingly at her. It was unnerving, and infuriating. Even her halting attempts at conversation with him only ended in her confusion and anger versus his stony placidity. It was like talking to the veil and expecting a straight answer. None of the others had given her so much trouble or so much to worry about.

A sharp knock at the door startled her from her thoughts, her lip twinged in pain as she accidentally bit it with the jolt- finally releasing it from her teeth. What on earth could they want now? It was late for _them_ , where she would still be up for hours. A necessary habit of living in the wilds, it was always safer to sleep during the day, though, undoubtedly inconvenient while they had tasks for her to complete. She still had a lot to learn about courtesy, but she felt this late visitor was an unusual occurrence.

Another sharp knock reminded her she was stalling, and probably now firmly in the realm of rude. Taking a deep breath to compose herself for what was likely to be another problem to fix, she called over her shoulder, “Come in!” She scrambled slightly to fetch the moderately heated pot off the fire as she heard the door swing open and shut soundly.

“I hope I am not disturbing you, Herald.”

Revas stilled at the sound of the aforementioned apostate's voice. She wondered vaguely if thinking of the strange elf summoned him, it was a slightly terrifying thought.

She hesitated before resuming pouring water into a cup over a sachet of elfroot before quietly uttering “No, not at all, Solas”, cursing herself quietly for being polite, returning the teapot to the fire. Turning to face him with a carefully still expression she ventured, “What brings you here this evening?”

His gaze lingered questioningly over the mess of papers scattered across the floor, “I could not help but notice you have been avoiding me since our conversation about the Dalish.” Eyes lifted to almost meet hers, slightly lower, another blatantly questioning look.

She bit back a groan, hiding the worried lip back between her teeth- away from such scrutiny. Oh lovely, she hoped she had been subtle enough that he wouldn't notice her avoidance. His attention seemed barely in reality as it was. She couldn’t seem to put together the puzzle that was this elf, all she had were a handful of pieces that didn’t fit together at all. He hadn’t tried to kill her… yet, or made any other moves against her, but she was wary. He had no vallaslin… but he was an elven apostate who supposedly wandered the wilds as she had. She needed to be careful around any who might have the knowledge to put meanings to her hidden mark, any who had the knowledge to look at her too closely. She had been burned by the assumption unmarked elves were safe before. Though, one that wandered the Fade as freely as he seemed to was something new to her. Despite her interest in some of the things he had to say she wouldn’t let herself relax, if anything it only made him more dangerous. His knowledge of the mark and the breach were intriguing, despite both existing for only a few weeks. Once that had time to sink in though, it bothered her, far too sharp by half indeed. Her first tangible misstep where he was concerned had begun with asking him about his thoughts on elven culture. It seemed prudent to keep her distance from him since then.

She knew she hadn't caught the flicker of surprise and concern that flashed across her face- if the slight dawning look of realization that crossed his was any indicator. “I've just had a lot on my mind is all,” she deflected in what she hoped in her exhaustion sounded like a credible reason.

Solas raised an eyebrow, considering before blithely seeming to accept and continuing. “Ah, of course. As to why I am here, I wished to ask you about your mark.”

His faint amusement made her nervous, so she made a show of her sigh, looking down at the mark pulsing weakly green in her palm. _Great_ , this dance again, it was too late in the day to play guessing games about magic she didn’t understand. Each time he asked she got the distinct feeling he blamed her for it, the way he phrased his questions reminiscent of some interrogation, as if he was trying to catch her in a lie. Maybe thinking him sharp was giving the man far too much credit. It's not like she could lie about what she could not remember. “I doubt there's anything I could tell you that you don't already know.”

His eyes were searching her face with a decidedly amused expression, and more than a hint of smugness. She dared to breathe despite the tightness in her lungs, not that mark then, _shit._

She touched the dark vallaslin of Dirthamen that covered her features. Hoping against hope he wasn't seeing what she thought he was as her thoughts raced with her heartbeat. This could only end badly. She steeled herself for the eventuality this conversation may force her to flee, or worse. “I don't know what you mean. This is not so unusual for a _Dalish_ elf is it?” Her steady voice was barely restraining the reactionary scorn dripping from the word.

That damnable eyebrow of his was raised again. The eyebrow that heralded when he knew something was bullshit, though normally he was content to let it slide in the company of others. Resignation settled deep in her bones, there would be no such luck tonight. Fleetingly she thought that she should really try to be a less terrible liar.

“I think it is apt that you cover your secret with the mark of the god of secrets.”

Eyes widened, she froze instantly, his admission chilling all but her heart that now raced away against her will, sending an automatic flush to her features. She made herself aware of every minute movement he made, fight or flee, which would he force her to do? He could see right through it from the beginning couldn't he? She had been vaguely afraid of this ever since she caught his eyes roaming over her face as if trying to read a page written in an unfamiliar language, despite her confidence in the spell she’d cast to hide it. He made no aggressive movements towards her, his hands clasped behind his back as usual, completely relaxed as if this was his cabin and not her own. She was certain the confusion on her face was now very apparent. Though, he knew she hid things… and hadn’t told anyone, why? Why was he here and not a horde of templars? Why keep her markings, and likely her magic a secret? Was he just after knowledge, or was it to truly be blackmail? Maybe he just wanted to know what they meant? Why she had to hide it? Perhaps she’d see where this went. She had just begun to relax her stance as he calmly spoke up again with a carefully measured admittance that threw her worse than the last.

“Will you tell me why it is you are marked for the Dread Wolf?”

A shaky groan left her throat as she fully abandoned her tea, backing into a chair and sinking down on it. He’d chosen knowledge, for now. The wake of adrenaline left her weak. So much for hiding _that_ , though, if he already knew then maybe he could answer her own lingering questions about the markings. Either way she was going to need something much stronger than tea.

* * *

He had expected to retrieve his foci, to reclaim his power and set in motion his plans to traverse the Fade to unravel the veil. Instead he’d been met with confusing destruction, the yawning tear in the sky. It was a mockery of his plans, and instead of his power an anomaly of a woman, the slight wisp of her form unconscious and in his care. She was such a compelling mystery to him, even asleep as she was she demanded far much more of his attention than her scornful kin usually garnered. His mark on her hand was puzzling enough, how did she come by it? Was she in league with Corypheus? Had something gone wrong, more wrong than the obvious hole in the sky? Had she caused his plans to go awry? And on her face, something was concealed by a spell, what could this fragile creature be hiding? During a moment alone with the change of guard he'd cast a spell to reveal her face to him and what he saw shook him to the core. A vallaslin no Dalish would wear.

A vallaslin that shouldn’t exist outside his own memories.

It took him longer to come up with a believably vague explanation on how he stopped his mark from killing her than the actual act. It felt... strange to be so close to his power, able to effect it yet unable to assume it. The mark that should be his would have killed her if he didn’t intervene. He’d considered letting it, yet without his foci the energy would simply be released back to the orb, and with no evidence that it remained in Haven he couldn’t chance releasing his power to an unknown entity… perhaps the same entity he seemed to have sorely underestimated. The rift would need to be dealt with before it got out of hand anyways, he might as well allow her the chance, the chance to prove to him what so many others failed.

The words that tumbled from her lips had startled him, afraid she would wake cradled in his lap. It would have been a compromising situation, yet she didn’t truly stir. Her words nonsensical, repeating “the grey” and “far too many eyes” over and over, he puzzled over them briefly before determining it was likely just something she’d encountered in her flight from the fade. It was a marked improvement. She would live for now, whatever that entailed.

He resolved then to stay, to watch events unfold... And much to his surprise to watch this young elf with her marked face and her compelling secrets, flail against fate. As he watched he still was not entirely convinced she didn't have a hand in causing all this, after all how did a Dalish elf bearing a mark he'd forsaken long before his rebellion, even before he assumed his station; happen to steal the power that should have been his? He was determined to figure her out, unravel her secrets. It was too large a coincidence.

~~x~~

He'd stepped out of his cabin to head to dinner when he saw her sitting on the low wall, one leg drawn up, the other swinging idly, lost deep in thought as the last rays of sunset brought out a prism of colors in her messy dark hair. So far she had proven just as wild as her looks and her unruly kin. There was an uncertainty about her as though civilization was unfamiliar to her, people set her on edge far more so than most Dalish he’d ever encountered. She was prone to staring silences rather than the silly banter of their other companions. He watched her for a moment before deciding to strike up a conversation. Perhaps he could catch her off-guard. He stepped up close behind her uttering a soft "Herald" stifling a smile as she jumped, letting out a decidedly undignified squeak before nearly falling forwards off the wall.

She turned around with a bewildered look on her face punctuated by her owlishly yellow eyes. “Oh, it's you Solas. I was... Miles away I guess.” He chuckled thinking this had to be the worst thief he'd ever seen. “I apologize Herald, I did not mean to scare you.”

The conversation they struck up was relatively easy, she was guarded yet inquisitive and seemed eager to listen to his explanations; perhaps there was more to this elf than he thought. That is... until she asked about his opinion on elven culture. He decided this was the time to prod her.

“I had thought you would be more interested in sharing _your_ opinions on elven culture, you are Dalish are you not?”

Her face immediately darkened into a scowl. “Do not call me that.” A hint of warning in her voice had caught him by surprise, yet he would not stop now. “Why not? You bear their markings, do you not share their opinions as well?” She shot up off the wall in a fury he desperately desired to know the source of, fists clenched. Solas briefly glimpsed the air shimmer around her before she reigned herself in- felt the barely restrained hint of magic. It tasted of anger, potent and honest. The 'Herald' bit with words instead, “Do not compare me to those wandering fools who move through the world with little purpose and even less knowledge.” She spat at the ground between them. “I am NOTHING like them.” The furious elf gave him a last withering look before turning on her heel and storming off to the tavern.

It wasn't often that Solas was caught off-guard, he watched as the last rays of the sun vanished behind the mountain before heading off to dinner. She held his interest before, now she claimed his full attention. This was going to be interesting indeed.

* * *

Revas sat there for several quickened heartbeats desperately attempting to compose herself. Grumbling quietly, rubbing her hands down her face to avoid the elf that surely still stared. Ducking her face as she rose, her steps scattering reports as she dove under her bed for her hidden stash of alcohol. She gestured wildly behind her to the other chair, “Take a seat, you might as well be comfortable… _At least one of us should be,_ ” she mumbled. A brief sneeze at the disturbed dust and then a sigh escaped her once she finally caught what she was searching for, passing over the deceptively unassuming bottle called Carnal, 8:69 Blessed- _THAT_ was not an impression she’d like to give him. Coming up from under the bed with a dusty bottle bearing a barely legible label, Butterbile 7:84.

She hesitated as she was met with the full force of his gaze. There was an odd intensity draped across those placid features, like she had become the most interesting thing in the world and briefly everything else fell away. It was a completely unreserved stare, one he’d never faced her with while in the company of others. It was nothing like the constant sidelong looks. He tracked her every movement. It was not an expression she had ever been given, by an elf at least. It made her feel uneasy, and her thoughts of running resurfaced. Revas was more used to fear and disdain when any of her supposed people had glimpsed her true markings, not this… naked curiosity.

She cleared her throat nervously, offering up the bottle, “According to the warning this is not for the faint of heart.” She forced a grin, stabbing at a self-assurance she barely felt, wondering if he'd take the challenge.

He goaded her with a smug look on his face, “Perhaps I should finish it off for you then.”

“Hah! I'd like to see you try _hahren_.” She chided and narrowed her eyes, perhaps she could play to his pride. She wondered if she could deflect this conversation long enough to get him drunk and push him out the door.

His expression settled into something vaguely unamused. “ _Da'len_ , I have been drinking far longer than you, and you are stalling.”

The chill in his words sobered her before she even began. She should have known better than to call him that mockingly and not expect him to return the insult in kind. She sighed, it had been worth a shot, yet it brought into stark relief once more just how bad she was at reading this man. She settled into her chair pouring them each a glass from her mismatched set, swiftly downing hers before refilling it and settling the bottle to the side. Taking a deep breath, welcoming the pleasant burn as it began to spread through her. If they were going to talk about her face, it would be great if she couldn't feel it while they did so.

“What would you ask of me?” She fiddled with her hands trying not to lose herself in her cup, not meeting his eyes.

He hummed and she glanced up to meet his gaze, it looked like he had been waiting for that. She was surprised when he started out simple, “I take it you know what your true markings mean?”

“Yes.” She dropped her gaze again, swallowing thickly. “I have always known what they meant, though I did not choose them.” Solas' eyebrows arched higher than she thought possible. “You mean... They were forced on you?”

“Yes, well... yeah, they were.” She answered again, this time warily holding his gaze, waiting to see what he'd make of it.

His expression quickly darkened, “What I know of the Dalish suggests that each person chooses their own upon coming of age, as a misguided rite of passage. Why would they force the marks let alone _that_ mark on anyone?”

She sighed, taking another sip. He was getting closer to the uncomfortable heart of the matter. “Our keeper had dreams, visions of each clan member as they came of age before they underwent the rite.” She paused, closing her eyes, “She told us what she saw before we chose to help guide us I suppose, but not in my case. What she saw... I- I don't wish to talk about, but it forced her hand she said. So they… didn't let me choose,” she finished rather weakly. She took another long draw from the foul drink, grimacing. "They expelled me from the clan shortly after they had finished, with a warning that they would make my status known so that I'd find no safe haven... and that no deception, no amount of cunning would hide me from the wolf. That he had my scent... That I would be their tribute to him."

Solas' scowl had only grown deeper. “Why precisely did they mark you instead of refusing and expelling you from the clan?”

She sat back and looked him straight in the eye, the memory of the incident fueling her rising indignation. “So that I would never be taken in by any clan, so my status as _harellan_ was plain for all to see. A stark warning, so I could never trick a clan that did not know me and lead them astray. To put me on the _Vir Banal’vhenas_ so long as I draw breath.”

A low guttural noise rose from Solas’ throat and he downed his cup with a grimace. A strange and unexpected sound, it was nearly a growl- laden with something akin to disappointment. Revas reached for the bottle the silent question in her raised eyebrow, he tilted his head, a quick nod and she poured another cup, which he downed as well. He let out a long drawn out sigh and his shoulders fell with a weight she couldn't guess.

Revas allowed an amused appraisal of his reaction to hum from her throat. Who exactly was this elf? He was anything but what she had expected.

~~x~~

He had feared her answer. To know the mark was forced, to exile her. Despite his low opinion of the Dalish, this was uncommonly cruel of them to thrust her into the world alone for no reason than an uncertain future, a mark to sunder her from any of her kin. That they’d forced the marks on her, it was unheard of as far as he was aware, at least in recent times. It called up the dark past he fought to put down. And there she sat, some misguided clan’s tribute to him, he would have laughed bitterly were he alone. He wished darkly to know of this clan, to let them know precisely what he thought of their _devotion_.

The fury in her eyes, the fire there at her last answer, the defiance- Her anger made her bold, confident. That was truly her if he was any judge, the elf that refused to meet his gaze from before didn’t suit her. He felt strangely at ease with the woman before him, despite the unease etched into her face, regardless of her actual connection to him. Perhaps it was simply their regrettable choice of beverage unwittingly softening his opinion of her. Yet, even so he could not deny her revelations had turned his opinion of her around. It seemed she was not in fact what he had expected.

His voice had an unbidden softness to it as he broke the tentative silence. "Why are you reluctant to look me in the eye?"

Her gaze snapped to his as if to challenge his inquiry, that same unyielding fire from before. And yet, her voice carried a hushed tone equal to his own, as if she too was reluctant to tread where he'd absently directed their conversation. "Many reasons, I suppose. I... well I haven't been around this many people in a long time. In the wilds if you make eye contact with the wrong thing you'd better be prepared to fight it. Among people, well... Eye contact seems to hold other connotations in, ah, _certain_ um settings." Her face colored and he didn't miss her meaning. He waited patiently for her to finish the thought that was fighting to break the surface. "I've also been told my gaze is unnerving. It makes it hard to deal with people amicably. And well, now I know what they mean." Her next statement punctuated by her gaze dropping to her cup. "Your gaze can be unnerving as well."

He sighed softly, her answer held more nuance than he’d expected. It wasn’t a shyness, but a highly calculated behavior, not only considering her experiences, but also the feelings of others. It coaxed a slight sinking sensation of guilt to settle low in his gut to have put her through that on purpose, but then perhaps that was the drink as well. She was sharper than he gave her credit for, an underestimation he fully regretted once she realized his slip up.

“How did you know they were Fen’Harel’s?”

He fought to keep his expression calm, gathering a suitable answer. If he continued to underestimate her, she would be his undoing. He would have to try harder to puzzle her out without implicating himself.

"I glimpsed an old memory in an ancient temple as I slept." He paused, considering how much to give away. "It was more impression and intent than actual visions. What I did see were those markings, hidden away. Never to be seen again. It came to me with the vague impression they were not meant to be known."

She seemed content with the answer, much to his relief. "I had thought for years they were well known, but maybe a taboo..." She trailed off in thought, and he let the subject drop despite his burning curiosity. He would need to approach that topic sober, and much more carefully.

They drank in an oddly comfortable silence for a while before she roused him from his thoughts.

“What… Who are you Solas?” She asked; her voice thick and sluggish with the drink.

The question startled him, a slight panic rising in his chest as she continued.

“I mean, you... You haven't cursed me. Quit the Inquisition, or betrayed my secret... And it seems you've known for some time. Why? Why are you ok with this?”

He let out a sigh of relief hastily masked as resignation. “I am an apostate, I have no kin and thus I spend my time wandering the Fade, my friends are spirits, did you honestly think I would be so closed minded to this?” He gestured to her face. “As to why I did not tell the others...” He paused considering, “I doubt many of the others know much of Dalish lore but to admit their Herald was not only marked for Fen’Harel but is also a rather skilled Mage? Neither of those revelations would help you accomplish your goal right now.” He hoped it was a sufficient answer as he was going to need to win her trust.

Her already red face blushed a deeper hue. “Ah, so you did know that too huh? Is it... Obvious?” She fiddled with her cup again.

Solas waited for her to look up at him, a smirk playing about his lips, “No _Da'len_ , so long as you keep your anger in check.” He chuckled lightly. “You play a rather convincing hunter, although you should probably be more mindful of people sneaking up on you.”

She groaned, likely remembering that awful noise he scared from her. He watched as she gathered herself up, declaring defiantly, "I knew you were there, mostly... I just didn't think you'd sidle up like that." She added quietly, "I'm not used to being forced to be around people so much, it’s... there's no place to relax." She trailed off in thought again. He watched her as she slowly met his gaze and held it. They sat there in silence for a time, neither daring to look away, like some unspoken challenge and yet it felt strangely intimate. It felt as though she was letting him see something she would show no one else. He watched her brows furrow as she appeared to be thinking hard, fighting against her inebriation.

He supplied a likely curiosity, “I am a skilled mage myself _Da'len_ , there were signs about your deception that tipped you off to me as you slept. I doubt any circle mage would find you out so easily.”

She sighed in relief, slumping face down on the table, the moment finally broken, to his relief, and confusion. “Perhaps we can finish this,” he gently shook what was left of the bottle, “and our conversation another time?”

She nodded against the table, “I would like that I think.”

“Then I bid you goodnight Herald, try to get some rest.” He rose from his chair and turned to leave.

“My name is _Ma'revas'an_ , Solas.”

He turned back to face her, his chest clenching at the look of utter despair on her face. Her name was where your… My... His freedom dwells... He silently cursed the transitive intent of Elvhen. She had just said she was his freedom with a look of sorrow so profound it could shake the heavens. He didn't dare breathe- inclining his head keeping his voice carefully even, “Goodnight _Ma'revas'an_.” It felt like a bitter proclamation of defeat.

After closing her door and embracing the night air he all but fled to his cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vir Banal'vhenas = the path of no home (Exile)  
> [Although 'Vir' not conjugated suggests 'we' so it could read as We (are) without a home- which also actually works fairly well with where I'm going. It almost makes it into an interesting title. 'Those without a home.' Properly it should probably be Vir'banal'vhenas. But I'm not changing it again, I'm claiming Dalish ignorance of properly spoken Elvish and all.]
> 
> Ma'revas'an = My/Your place of freedom.
> 
> FYI: Unless stated all Elvhen(Elvish?) in this is either from the wiki or something I blatantly made up.


	2. In Which Things Change Shape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Hinterlands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've left the narration at the last section fluid, switching between Solas and Revas freely. I'll normally endeavor to keep it separate but considering it's a turning point at their mutual understanding I think it fits as is.
> 
> 3/27 + 1684 words  
> 4/15 - forgot Thedas has two moons, added a word.

They had been out in the Hinterlands for weeks. Revas was convinced they would have to single handedly fix the entire regions problems. She threw her hands in the air as she stalked away from the horse master’s holdings. “Ugh _of course_ , let's add wolves and bandits to the list!” She didn't stop grumbling until well after she reached the riverbank, stomping into the water and promptly sitting down, not even bothering to remove her armor. She scrubbed viciously at the blood and gore of half a dozen creatures that had been plastered to her since midday. She shouted back towards the bank “HALF THOSE REFUGEES ARE GONNA THINK I’M A REDHEAD!” A pause, her next thought so quiet Solas almost didn’t hear it. “Or some sort of tyrant…” She resumed scrubbing the gore from her hair. 

Cassandra gave Solas a questioning glance and he just shook his head, “I suggest we let her be for now Seeker.” 

She nodded, “Keep an eye on her, will you? Varric and I will set camp.” 

Solas nodded and tread quietly down to the riverbank, leaning against a tree as he stood watch and considered the elf in his charge. She was growing more complex by the moment it seemed, each new challenge she faced brought out more aspects of her mind than he’d seen before. He knew despite her current frustration she was glad to have something to accomplish. The slight smile in her eyes when she returned some stolen ring, or had hunted down enough game for the refugees to eat and blankets to keep them warm. Those simple gestures seemed to genuinely make her happy, that is until they began to call her “Herald” or “Your worship”. 

The light in her eyes would cool and she'd let her smile die before it truly began. She at least would incline her head and leave with dignity, always careful she didn't grumble apart at the seams until well out of sight and sound. Despite the answers she had given him he felt there was so much more to this elf, a thought that was as uneasy as it was intriguing. They hadn’t had much time alone for him to ask further, though, she at least seemed open to telling him more. He would just have to wait for the right moment. 

There was a complex magnetism about her. He couldn’t quite decide what it was, but it drew people to her. Refugees opened up to her despite her nervousness, her rusty courtesies, and her fiery gaze. Perhaps it was merely her title that put them at ease, yet he suspected something else. There was a quiet calculation to her every interaction. He found himself impressed against his will with her subtlety. He’d asked her about it about a week ago while she was on watch. She’d simply told him that it had been necessary to survive, to be able to detect a threat before it became one. She’d already wisely applied it to many of her interactions with wary humans. It made him wonder what she saw in him. He was still undecided if he should ask, it could lead to a dangerous line of questioning.

It was that night he first sought her out in dreams. He didn’t show himself, but he was present, shaping her dream to represent real challenges. Tests he’d end up spending the long days of travel devising. He wanted to see how she’d react to certain scenarios. His guilt at manipulating her dreams, her nightmares was overshadowed at the raw potential that existed for piecing her mystery together. There were no right answers to his scenarios. Though, her solutions were at once intriguing and very informative, she excelled beyond all his expectations. At first he couldn’t tell if she knew that she was dreaming, but then he realized that not only did she know, she would actively seek out his intrusion. Occasionally she would stop, and the shape of the dream would change as she stared intently, murmuring “No this isn’t right, what is this?” Her consciousness reaching for the intruder, _him_ , it always forced him to step back and abandon the dream. Lest she find out that he was the cause of it. That she could sense there was something off about his constructed dreams was utterly fascinating. She… was _fascinating_. 

By the time he had roused from his thoughts there was a pile of armor littering the bank and a mostly unclad Revas half drowning as she struggled with removing her leggings. Solas sighed and shook his head, fascinating as she may be, she was still painfully young. 

\---

She sighed deeply sinking up to her chin, relaxing in the cool water. The blood and grime that had covered her felt suffocating. It was for that reason she truly missed using her magic in battle, without it she wasn’t fast enough to dodge the spray of blood or ichor her cuts inflicted. Perhaps she should switch to the bow for the time being. She was aware Solas was her appointed guardian for the moment but that wasn't going to stop her from stripping off her armor so it could dry on the bank and not be ruined further. She had been living alone so long she wasn't sure what modesty even was anymore, not that her clan had been particularly strict in that sense. It was no matter- he was quiet enough of a presence she could pretend he wasn’t there. It was a much needed respite from the constant running around, the constant noise, the constant complaining. 

Despite how infuriating he could be she often found her thoughts drifting to the strange man. He was a sore thorn in her side- a danger that knew far too much about her, while at the same time utterly intriguing that she knew so little about him. Solas had kept his usual careful distance from her since that night in her cabin, ever watchful. It had surprised her at first that he didn’t push her to divulge anything more. Though, perhaps that had more to do with their lack of privacy than a reluctance to approach her. Her memory of the night was hazy from the drink. It was not often she had gotten to indulge and it had been far too strong for her taste, yet she remembered everything that had been said. Much to her chagrin he kept up his penchant for calling her _da’len_ even though she bit her tongue and refused to call him _hahren_ again. It was a blatant mockery of the life she once led. She was certain he knew how maddening it was to her. He still resisted all her attempts to classify him. He was strong willed, yet quiet, watchful- even sagacious. Yet she felt there were hints to darker thoughts behind that calm façade of his if the snarl in his eyes and the growl he uttered were any warning. It had been a strange outburst that stuck out. She had a feeling he wasn’t a man who would bow to others, who wouldn’t run from anything unless it was to turn the tables to better suit his eventual victory- if his prowess in battle was any indication. It made her wonder not for the first time if she was in over her head.

A slight shift of clothing, a rustling of grass, a soft sigh, she spun around suddenly on edge only to see he’d sat beneath the tree to continue his watch. The lazy grace with which he reclined was something she hadn’t seen before, though not his grace to be specific. It made her more than a little jealous to watch his fluid movements in battle. No step without purpose, he moved with the careful grace of a rogue- as though battle was an elaborate dance. It made her feel clumsy by comparison and it was entrancing at the worst possible times. The dwarf had noticed her gaze, much to her dismay, although apparently he’d also noticed how Solas stared at her in return. The persistent writer had begun reading far too much into their silent exchanges. It was a battle of wills, not a budding romance. It was perhaps that more than anything else that toned down the intensity of gaze Solas leveled at her. An intensity she suddenly realized he was employing right this second. She had never looked away when he’d sat and was staring right into her, just as she had been to him. 

The blush came unbidden as she hastily turned away. She sat up and distracted herself with the choppy reflection staring back at her. There was a slight sunburn on her light olive skin, it had been a long time since she wasn’t forced to travel at night, the habit reducing her to a pale shade. If they kept this up she’d be as tanned as she once was all those years ago when her clan had moved up north to the edge of the Weyrs. Well, in the places her armor didn’t touch at least. Her dark hair was finally free of the blood of the second and third bears that went after Cassandra shortly after lunch. It had been after that, something about the gut wrenching scream of frustration Revas had let loose in battle, that Varric had said she reminded him of a certain broody elf. She didn't know what to make of that, she hardly thought she was broody at all, just maybe a little socially stunted. Although, she was glad that nickname had been taken when he lamented his luck for knowing two broody elves. He had jokingly asked her if she'd ever been to Tevinter maybe they were related. Her noncommittal grunt as a response probably didn’t help matters. 

Thoughts of kin real or imagined filled her with unease, so she abandoned the river, gathering her scattered armor as she trod back to camp, vaguely aware of Solas' eyes and soon the rest of him, following her. 

The silence he was capable of moving with at times sent shivers down her spine. She strode up to their camp after carefully hanging her armor on a nearby tree to see the startled Seeker frozen over the pot on the fire and the dwarf barely containing a laugh. “HERALD?! Where are your clothes?!” The Seeker exclaimed, causing the dwarf to lose his battle and double over laughing. Revas made a show of looking down at her breast bindings and smalls, looking up and deadpanning, “They were wet.” 

She heard Solas chuckle behind her, “Well it's true, they were.” 

Cassandra uttered a disgusted noise and gestured vaguely “Well put something on, dinner is almost done.” 

Revas allowed herself a small smile as she went to fetch her sleeping tunic from her pack. These people were growing on her despite her efforts to remain neutral.

\---

They were all lazing comfortably around the fire after a rather decent dinner of ram. Her clothes and hair finally dry once more. Solas had first watch and was sitting just out of the firelight. Varric was mumbling to himself and it sounded like he was still racking his brains for an appropriate nickname for her. It was Cassandra who finally broke the relative quiet. “Herald...” She started. Revas looked up. “It occurs to me I barely know anything about you.” 

Revas kept her face calm. _This_ could be an uncomfortable conversation. “What would you like to know?” She ventured warily. 

Cassandra replied with what she had feared. “Where are you from?” 

Revas sighed, considering how much she should tell. As she glanced around for an appropriate answer she realized everyone's attention was on her. “Where I could be from changed with the year. I'm not really from anywhere.” She conceded reluctantly. “I don't have a home.” 

“Don't the Dalish clans generally keep to a certain region?” 

Revas sighed rubbing her forehead fighting the annoyance that threatened to bubble up, “I don't have a clan.” 

Varric chimed in, “I'm sensing a story here. I know this elf, Daisy, she left her clan after making some pact with a demon.” 

Revas couldn't hide the wounded look on her face. That was far too close to home. “I would rather not talk about that, I hope you understand. It is not a happy memory.” She allowed herself to say, eyes unblinking focused on the fire. “I have been on my own for many years.”

Cassandra's face softened “I apologize Herald, I did not mean to pry.” 

“Call me Revas, please. I.. This is a lot to get used to.” She took a deep breath. “You can ask something different and I may answer it, Cassandra.”

“Revas, that's a beautiful name. What does it mean?”

“Freedom. My...” She faltered and closed her eyes tight, “My mother was a city elf who escaped into the wilds to be with my father. She... named me for her freedom.”

Cassandra sighed. “That's so romantic...” Varric coughed and the seeker shot him a glare, resuming the hard expression her face normally kept. 

Varric piped up, “So how'd an elf living on her own even get into the conclave?”

She realized he was taking notes again and groaned scrubbing her face with her hands. “Just cause I was on my own didn't mean I was oblivious to the world falling apart, Varric. I had been wandering through the Hinterlands when I heard about the conclave. I was hired on as a mercenary as some simpering lords personal guard. I suspect he wanted the influence of a savage _Dalish_ assassin to leverage something out of someone.” She rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to see for myself what was going on.”

"And you still don't remember what happened?" The Seeker was still very eager to get to the bottom of that mystery, then again so was she. She shook her head, "Sorry, no. I still don't remember." Cassandra sighed, drifting off in thought before excusing herself to wash in the river.

She looked up across the fire and was startled to see she had Solas' unwavering attention once more. She felt bare before that look on his face, despite what little clothing she had. She dropped her gaze and quickly faked a yawn. She didn’t enjoy the prospect of being alone with both that gaze and Varric’s inquisitive mind. 

“I think I'm going to turn in.”

Varric nodded, immersed in his notes. She stood and glanced at Solas, he nodded before gazing back out into the night. 

She crawled into her tent and tried to quell the restless thoughts his gaze elicited, very aware that she had the next watch, and he would be waking her for it. She slowly drifted off into fitful dreams. 

\---

Solas was surprised yet again, listening to this young elf answering what had to be uncomfortable questions, honestly, willingly. She had paused and he wondered what kind of lie she would spin, yet she hadn't... And the fact that she turned up at the conclave purely out of an interest of knowledge hadn't escaped him either. There seemed to be no deceit in her, after all he would know. Even in their inert state, her markings made her his creature, whether he liked it or not. Could it be possible she had come across his foci entirely by accident? Or had her interference been unknowingly noble? Seeking to reclaim his orb from what had been allowed to take it. Had it called to her? And yet the moment was fleeting, his gaze had clearly unnerved her once more as she retreated to her tent. Though, her flight had left him alone with Varric. He found himself wishing she stayed. Her fiery temper at Varric’s implication was amusing and it helped deflect the dwarf’s attention from himself.

  


“So, Chuckles… What’s going on between you and the Herald?” Solas pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing a sigh. 

After a time, long after the others had _finally_ retired for the night, his thoughts were interrupted by fitful noises coming from Revas’ tent. He rose from his watch and trod silently to the mouth of her tent, listening. He could hear her fighting her dream, a quiet stream of “No no no no-” carried on her breath. It was unsettling, he’d seen her dreams and she never lost her head in them, even in the nightmares he’d seen… _created_. He resolved to wake her if for nothing else than to prevent her from lashing out with magic in the night. 

\---

She awoke abruptly, twisted up in her bedroll. Aware of a hand on her shoulder she skirted away fighting out the remnants of her dream. Solas released her just as she realized it was only him. She fought to keep her breathing under control. “Solas? What's...” She looked around the tent wildly, her confusion prominently written on her face.

“You cried out in your sleep, it was only a dream.” 

“A dream? Is... it my watch?”

“No, not yet.”

She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands trying to chase the dream from her mind. What had it been about? "Wolves" she breathed. Switching to focus instead of forgetting, she remembered flashes of green eyes, black fur and pain. Writhing angry pain. She looked up as Solas stood and peered out of the tent flap, he took on a slightly chiding tone as he spoke. “There are no wolves out there, _da'len_.”

She shook her head grimacing at his tone, this was serious. “No, not here... But close...” Her brows furrowed, “They... They're in pain.” 

That brought a truly shocked look to his face, it looked out of place. She wondered whether or not she should have said as much. Before he could gather the words for his thoughts she bolted out of her tent and out into the night, her name from his lips lingering in the night air as he called after her. 

\--- 

He'd half expected her to admit she was afraid of wolves. The thought was absurd to him, and he'd responded mockingly. Her next statement threw him sufficiently to allow for her escape.

She had deftly slipped from his grasp as she sprinted out into the night, still clad in nothing but her smalls and tunic, no weapon. It was foolish. He couldn't leave the camp unprotected so he hastily set a few wards that would at least give the others warning, before gathering up his staff and sprinting out into the night after her.

Despite the light of both moons hanging almost full in the sky he could see no sign of her. He wondered if it was her time with the Dalish or her time in exile that caused her to stride the world with nary a footprint. He steadied his breath and focused that which he’d resolutely ignored, his mark. Which one? He wondered if he could even tell them apart, they were both his and they both called to him. Discerning a direction he headed after her at a sprint.

Before long he had tracked the weak pull of her to the high walled den before him, a perfect spot for an ambush but could see no signs of a fight and no wolves. He briefly sought her presence again when all at once the still night air was sundered with a chorus of wolf song. He gathered his mana about him ready to charge in to reach her, when he realized it wasn't a call signifying a hunt... Or a kill.

They were calling out their freedom. His heart clenched and he crept into the den.

The sight before him stopped him short. A large black wolf stood at the center of the pack, ragged and covered in demon ichor, her court spread out in a rough circle around her, singing their praises. Her piercing yellow eyes met his and he knew there was no mistaking Revas, even in this form.

He stood still as she sauntered towards him, parting her court before her, considering him carefully. She sat back on her haunches as he knelt cautiously to look her in the eye. She had this look of sorrow again, but did not drop her gaze. No, in this form she had the upper hand and she would not back down.

Solas tentatively reached out, brushing against her jaw as she froze under his caress. She was magnificent in this form. It set his mind racing. He truly had no idea what to make of her. Despite all he thought he learned, she was much more closely guarded than he imagined. His voice betrayed his eagerness.

He murmured softly, “We had best return to camp soon if you want me to keep this secret as well, Revas.” 

She instantly perked up at his words and before he could stand, licked him full on the face. Leaving him sputtering as she bounded off to the entrance looking over her shoulder, pausing for him to follow. It felt like a small revenge, a chastisement for his earlier treatment of her, and he couldn’t deny that he deserved it.

He shook his head at the indignity of it all with a slight chuckle, before following after.

Oh he was in trouble.

\---

They had made it back to camp without being missed. Solas dispelled his wards while Revas washed the demon off her in the river. He could hear her taking her time, if the joyful splashing drifting up from the water was any sign. When she finally emerged from the dark to settle down by the fire she was an elf again. Pulling off her tunic and draping it near the fire to dry as she turned to him. She mused “Is it my watch… _now_?” Glancing up at where he still stood. 

He briefly scanned the sky before settling down at a comfortable distance from her, “There is perhaps an hour left of my watch if you wish to rest.” 

She flashed what must have been one of the first genuine smiles he’d ever seen grace her features. “No, I'm more awake than ever now.” She tilted her head, “I imagine you have questions?”

Oh did he. 

So she told him of her time alone in the various forests of Thedas, and she couldn’t deny how good it felt to let out everything she’d kept to herself. She had been truly alone for years, practicing her magic and honing her skills always on the move to prevent notice. She told him that after a time she occasionally ventured into settlements for news or supplies. She would find work at times or trade trinkets or furs for coin, never stealing, even though it would have been easy. She told him of the chance encounter she had with some Elven apostate, a shapeshifter, who had imparted some knowledge of his abilities to her before he realized what she was. There was some unexpected levity in her voice as she described the manhunt that ensued afterwards.

“Ah, I left the Free Marches for good after that.” She chuckled quietly. “Too much notoriety.” Her grin preceded the subject of her amusement, “The Dread Wolf's servant running about the woods and now she can change her shape?!” Her laugh marred with a snort. “That poor apostate was mortified!”

He found himself smiling as she told her stories with such animation. This was the true Revas he thought, the one who turned her misfortune into hope. The marked change in her as she opened up to him was startlingly endearing. She was still chuckling at her escape when he asked a question long on his mind.

“You do not seem to curse your markings, yet they have caused you great pain… Do you not resent them? Why do you direct your anger at the clan who placed them there instead?”

She paused thoughtful, before meeting his gaze. “Well, I bear them willingly.” He raised an eyebrow bidding her to continue. She sighed- “I could have fought them, I could have run away even knowing they would pursue, but I didn’t. I accepted these marks without crying out at the injustice of it all, the first real burden of my life. Exile from them after being faced with their condemnation over a _**vision**_ , well, it wasn’t exactly something that disagreed with me at the time. Perhaps I was being spiteful, but I had more than enough of their shit at that point. I won't deny I curse those who inflicted this on me, they deserve my ire. They are products of their own ignorance.” Her brows furrowed, “The ignorance of all the people who see _me_ and run. These markings don't make me a monster despite what people wish to see.” The passion in her speech was rising, “And it _hurts_ that I will have to hide for my entire life, but this is their narrow understanding of the world, their opinions no matter how strongly do not make them right.” She paused at a shuffling noise coming from the tents, lowering her voice again. 

“If these markings have taught me anything, it’s that the _Dalish_ have a great deal to be wrong about.” She finished, gazing up at the sky knowing that intense gaze Solas slipped into when she opened up had returned.

“Have you ever tried to change their minds?” The softness in his voice carried a weight that stilled her heart. A quiet sigh escaped her as she sank back against the ground. “They’ve never given me the chance.” He hummed his assent and she wondered if he had similar experiences.

She finally met his gaze again, unwavering, allowing him a small smile. “I do believe it is my watch now.”

The warm smile she received in return completely disarmed her, “You are much more compelling than the fade at the moment.”

She couldn't stop the blush rising on her cheeks. “Flatterer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure a ~~Dalish~~ Elven exile mage on her own for roughly a decade has probably learned a thing or two.


	3. In Which The Little Wolf Was Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas has questions. Revas has dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: Solas rides bareback. Oh gods that sounds way sexier than it is.
> 
> 3/28 + 1940 words

They were finally heading back to Haven. The rogue templars and apostates quelled, watch towers built, the crossroads well supplied, and more than half a dozen rifts closed. Dennet's horses would be on their way within the month. They had even found the Grey Warden rumored to be in the area of Lake Luthias. Though he already seemed disappointed with the fact she was an elf. She tried not to let it sour her mood. Solas had convinced Cassandra and Varric that the demon controlling the wolves had wandered too close to camp so he and Revas dispatched it while on guard. She gave him a small grateful look as she had not looked forward to explaining that one. She was great at omitting things, but absolutely awful at lying. She wondered not for the first time on the long trek back why she felt she could trust this strange elf to keep her secrets. Now only if she knew why he persisted in staring at her.

They were more alike than she’d realized. He’d opened up to her a bit about his own dealings with the Dalish as he kept her watch with her. She greatly appreciated the trade in knowledge. Although it was disheartening to hear his own attempts at reasoning with her _supposed_ people ending in failure. He had tried to teach them the things he’d learned in the fade, though he didn’t explain what precisely in great detail to her, imparting mostly that they rejected his ideas, his knowledge. That they’d dismissed him as _‘flat ear’_ , their contempt and disdain, if not outright hostility didn’t really surprise her. She knew all too well how her clan had treated her for not being _Dalish_ enough, for not cleaving to their reverent past enough. It left her with a lot to think about and she found herself reluctant to return to Haven. The freedom found in the wilds was relaxing despite all the things she was called upon to accomplish. Haven was static, immutable, and there were very few places to hide away when company became overwhelming. 

Her thoughts turned easily to him as she pushed away the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her at the prospect of returning. When precisely he turned from annoyance to respite in her mind she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was his familiarity with what she’d been through? She’d never met anyone who understood, who seemed to accept her before. It didn’t help that she suddenly had so many questions running through her mind that she was far too embarrassed to ask, especially in present company. How old was he? Was he really self-taught in magic? When did he go bald? How was it possible for him to be so graceful? Could he teach her? Would he? Did he really bribe giant spiders not to eat him while he slept in ruins? Why was he so handsome? 

That last thought startled her so badly it spooked her horse, which promptly reared and threw her hard to the ground. Winded and highly shaded with embarrassment she was certain she’d like nothing better than to sink into the ground and die. The impact of the fall hurt her far less than her wounded pride. The Seeker and the Warden sped off to catch her horse, while Solas dismounted to kneel at her side. She shut her eyes tight as his magic washed over her, shutting out her thoughts, repeating under her breath _“Horses aren’t halla, horses are not halla.”_

He whispered low, “No, indeed they are not.” A pause as he finished his spell, “Nothing is broken, there may be lingering bruising.” She nodded stiffly, content to pretend she didn’t exist. “Revas, look at me.” A soft gasp left her as she complied; her name from his lips was a suitably rare occurrence to demand her attention. She searched his gaze, her embarrassment temporarily forgotten in spite of the aforementioned handsome face inches from hers. His gaze equally probing as she remembered herself, sharply looking away, blinking back angry tears that threatened to spill. Mildly grateful he allowed her the space as he drew away. Though, he was not content to let her wallow in her thoughts on the ground as he offered his hand to help her up. She reluctantly took it. The strength and warmth in his hand grasped tightly around hers did nothing to help her thoughts. He didn't let go, gently tugging her to follow as he returned to his own mount. He turned back to her waiting. She set her jaw, resolutely ignoring his touch as he helped her up onto his own horse before following her up. 

A soft sigh escaped him, “You will need to sit closer to me Revas, unless you want this horse to throw us both.” She slid forward slightly, it wasn’t good enough. “Revas, I need you to relax. Close your eyes if you must, surely something so simple as riding properly with me is preferable to walking back to Haven?” There was a slight edge of hurt in his voice that shamed her. She had given him the entirely wrong impression. She laid her hands lightly on his narrow hips as she slid up against him. Winding her arms firmly around his waist as she pressed herself against his back. Her voice small and tentative, "It is not you Solas. I do not... I haven't been this close to anyone in a very long time. Please do not mistake my hesitation for an insult." She felt the deep breath he released as he coaxed his mount into a trot, setting off to find their companions.

They weren't difficult to find, they just needed to follow Varric's indignation at being brought along on the chase as he sat double with Cassandra.

“Let's NEVER do that again Seeker.” And then she burrowed her face deeper into Solas' back as she could practically feel the moment he caught sight of them. “Oh? Would you look at _that_!”

Cassandra deemed it unwise for her to resume riding alone and she couldn’t help but feel mutinous. Darkly thinking the Seeker might very well be in league with Varric. They had shifted their packs to the riderless horse and Revas steeled herself for what was likely to be a very long ride, pressed entirely too close to the reason she was thrown in the first place.

\---

Solas took the lead, riding slightly ahead of the group while they meandered through the foothills leading to Haven. Partially since she was their Herald and it was only proper for her to be seen riding ahead, but also because it had the added benefit of not having to field Varric's increasingly suggestive questions, prodded on by Warden Blackwall’s interest in gossip. Instead of rising to the bait he focused as much as he could on leading the horse and not the woman wrapped tightly at his back. There was a surprising intimacy in the act, one he now suspected was the reason for her reluctance. Did she think of him in such a way? He hadn't considered that she would be reluctant to touch, that her exile had denied her the pleasure. The thought thrilled him beyond all reason. He couldn't forget the slight heat in her gaze before her wounded pride had caught up to her. She had finally relaxed against him, and he felt an unbidden swell of pride that she had been able to. Though, it wasn't the only unbidden swell he had to contend with, having to discretely adjust himself a few times without her notice. The warmth of her at his back was hard to ignore, he hadn't been touched in such a way in a very long time. It was unwise to think of her, much less pursue her in such a way. So he drowned his thoughts in her many unknowns.

He had several questions to which the answers he was afraid to know. 

Most importantly how did her clan come by her markings? He’d never actually marked anyone. In his prideful youth he’d painstakingly designed the marks, even went so far as completing the ritual to bind their meaning to him. Yet as his power grew, as he saw the depravity of his people, his eyes were opened. By the time he’d risen to his station he couldn’t bear the thought of marking anyone in servitude. So even as there was a clamor for him to bestow markings upon those seeking his favor, he kept them, his closest secret.

Yet there they were, on her face, marked in the shade often reserved for the forgotten ones.

That was a particular insult on its own. Who had her clan been? All he knew was that they were likely still in the Free Marches. How had they discovered his secret? There was nothing in that region for them to stumble across. And how had they known to mark them in that color? Was it just some sort of nuanced Dalish custom, a coincidence? Or had they intended to mark her for him while practically declaring him kin to those of the void? As if it were that simple. 

It frustrated him to no end. 

What exactly happened in the vision her keeper had seen?!

And how had she dreamed of those wolves? How had she known they were trapped?

His mind cycled through question upon question in an endless loop as they neared Haven. He resolved to find out more about the mystery at his back. Feasibly he could ask her more innocuous questions than his outright declaration of her true markings. He’d cursed himself afterwards for his slip; there shouldn’t be any way for those markings to be widely known. Perhaps if he asked the right questions she would divulge more of what she knew without having to implicate himself. If he played things right, she might let him close enough for the answers he needed. Though, he was beginning to wonder if the path to those answers was worth the risk.

\-------

She paced in her cabin, fingers winding through her messy dark hair. She was anxious. She had a feeling Solas would yet again show up on her doorstep, but she didn't know how she came to expect that. After all, they had just spent the better part of a month together in the Hinterlands, not to mention the lengthy ride to Haven spent up against him. It would be perfectly reasonable for him to not show up. 

She marveled at how nervous he had made her before they had left Haven. It took her several days travelling in his company to stop wincing or running off every time he looked at her. She had kept expecting, the blow to fall, him to viciously turn on her, to blackmail her in some fashion, to do… really anything other than turning to ask her more questions with that odd intensity of his. He was devouring her secrets, one stolen moment alone at a time and he had shown no inclination to betray her. She knew he had even more questions but she didn't understand why he was so enthralled. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met before. The whole situation piqued her interest, yet she had a nagging feeling there was more to him that he let on.

She felt her fascination with him was unwise. A thought punctuated by the way she kept burying her face into the tabard of her dalish inspired armor. It smelled strongly of him, and it was a dangerously provocative scent. She was a wreck, he’d completely damaged her defenses and he was making it terribly difficult to remain distant. How could he be so deft? Was he doing it on purpose, or was it simply an accident of circumstance? She was suddenly horrifically embarrassed that she’d licked his face in her wolf form. She’d only meant to catch him unaware, to stab at his dignity. Now it seemed far too forward a gesture, odd as it was. She entertained thoughts of shifting to her wolf form and taking off into the night. To put a distance between them she felt she sorely needed. Though, he had found her… How? The thought was a little disquieting. What was his fascination with her? What made him want to follow where she led? 

She had just resigned herself to meditating to try and shut out that odd feeling when the familiar knock came at her door. 

“Come in?” She ventured, silently cursing herself for making it sound like a question. 

She could hear Solas chuckle on the other side of the door; he apparently hadn't missed it either. 

He stepped inside with a small bag in his hands, remarking “I’ll presume that was a yes” as he shut her door. He leveled her with a look tinged with apology. “You should know, Varric may have seen me heading this way. I fear the rumors about us will only grow.” She groaned, her fingers pressing into the growing tension at her temples. It didn’t escape her that he was aware of the rumors, and yet he came to see her anyways. 

He began pulling the bottle of wine, bread and cheese from the bag. He gestured with the bottle, “It is fortunate I thought ahead to conceal these or I have no doubt the questions he asked would have been much more pointed.” 

She rolled her eyes, sinking into one of the chairs, “Is there _anything_ that dwarf doesn't write down?”

Solas chuckled, “Unfortunately for either of us, it is unlikely… All the more reason to be careful what we divulge.” 

She sighed, watching closely as Solas sat across from her busying himself with the wine, pouring them both glasses. She didn’t miss his wording… _‘we’_ how effortlessly he placed them on the same side. “I hope you don't mind my presumption,” he passed a glass to her, “For such pleasant company I thought this would be more complementary than the... _Interesting_ bottle you offered last time.” 

Pleasant company was she? She chuckled darkly, “Not nearly as interesting as the other bottle I could have offered.” The reply left her unbidden and she clasped her hand over her mouth. She frantically waved away his raised eyebrow. “No nothing,” clearing her throat hastily before continuing, “I don’t mind, Solas, I was perhaps- a bit _vexed_ with you at the time. I _may_ have picked the worst bottle I had out of spite.” She was trying to look anywhere but at him.

He mused “And I had certainly deserved it. I did not know what to make of you at the time.” 

She raised an eyebrow her gaze snapping to his, “And do you now?”

A large grin crossed his face, he sipped his wine before answering, “I'm beginning to.”

She allowed herself a coy smile before drinking from her own glass, a small moan of delight rising from her throat, “Oooh, Solas! This is absolutely exquisite! A fine choice.” 

Seems he was the one with difficulty meeting her gaze all of a sudden, a light flush dusting his cheekbones too soon to be attributed to the wine. She curled her features into a mischievous grin before letting him off the hook for now. “So, what brings you here this evening then, aside from my company?” 

He hummed, tapping his fingers on his glass. “You say that as if your company wasn't reason enough, although I have more questions if you're willing to answer them.” 

She chuckled, shaking her head, “As you wish.”

\---

He considered her thoughtfully a moment before asking another question that had been on his mind. Wondering where its answer would lead.

“Why take the form of a wolf? Surely there are other creatures that would make you less... _Noticeable_.”

Her eyes brightened at the question, “It's actually the most curious thing! I can't manage any other form. It's part of what tipped the apostate off about me. No matter what manner of bird or game he tried to instruct me in I just couldn't make sense of them.” 

She was back to talking animatedly. A warm smile spread across his face as she continued.

“You see, you have to understand the creature whose form you take. And I just couldn't move like a rabbit or flit about like a bird. The apostate was about to write me off as just incapable of the art when he bade me to study wolves in his frustration.” She took a long drink of wine, sitting back in her chair with a slight expression of pride. “I managed it before sunset that day.”

He chuckled, “And I imagine that's when he thought you tricked him?”

“Oh yes”, she leaned forward, the wine beginning to flush her face beautifully. “He went on quite the foul mouthed rant about the savages he’d heard about with their blood-red vallaslin.” She gestured to her face, “Since It was my first time assuming a form I hadn't realized I'd resumed _my_ form without this concealment.” She threw her hands up in the air, “and the jig was up after that. He was suddenly all pointed questions, half terrified, half academic. I wasn’t certain if he was going to attack me or question me to death instead.” 

He watched her amused expression as she remarked about taking the mage out of the circle, but not the circle out of the mage. He was quite impressed with the prowess of his question. It had led exactly where he wanted. He just needed to steer her a little bit further.

She frowned. “A shame really, he wasn't Dalish and he sounded Ferelden so I took the chance he wouldn't know, after all the clan that exiled me had promptly informed every other clan in the area and half the cities roughly of what I was and that I was considered dangerous. What _I_ didn't know until well after he started teaching me was that he'd been the Elven lore expert of some circle before he'd escaped.” 

“What could he have wanted to know if he was so terrified?”

“Well, he had it all wrong… at first,” she cringed. “It actually caught me off-guard.” She rubbed her forehead in the familiar gesture, as if talking about the marks made them itch, before continuing, “He was aware of attacks in Western Orlais on the edge of the Tirashan, the elves in that forest are vicious. In fact they’re the reason my former clan moved to the Free Marches in the first place. They bear strange blood-red vallaslin, and he thought I was one of them, intending to sacrifice him to some bloody forgotten god.” She sighed, “He asked about them, and I explained that I wasn’t them, and that I had been branded against my will. He asked whose marks I bore and I declined to tell him. That’s when it dawned on him, the unfamiliar marks, the wolf form that had come so easily to me, the vague warnings he surely must have heard…” she trailed off contemplating the food on the table. 

He considered this information with great interest. The Tirashan was still very much a wild place. It’s likely her clan had taken some inspiration from those elves. Though, it was troubling that most of the Free Marches probably had an idea about her markings; he didn’t relish the idea of others being branded for him for petty offenses. Perhaps she had learned to conceal them before too many discovered their design… that would only leave her former clan. 

She mused resignedly. “I hope the clan I sent him to didn't kill him for just encountering me.” 

That had his full attention again as his eyebrows shot up, “You sent him to a clan?” He certainly hadn’t expected that considering her history.

“Yes” she nodded, “I paid for his knowledge with knowledge of my own, how to survive in the wild, how to cook game, and rough location of a clan in the area he could take refuge with. Although that last bit I had to shout after him when he started running. Not sure if he'd take my advice at that point.” She grinned.

Solas felt a swell of pride in his chest at the woman before him. “You continue to surprise me Revas.” 

She buried her face in her wine glass, a slightly muffled reply “I just live an interesting life is all.” She tentatively met his gaze, over the rim of her cup as she swallowed. 

Solas’s smile grew, “While your experiences are extraordinary, it’s your wisdom, your choices that make you interesting lethallin.” She wasn’t the only one with a look of surprise at the concession; he’d barely considered the reply before it dashed out of his mouth. 

He hastily cleared his throat, trying to deflect the heat rising on his face. 

“If I may, why disguise yourself as Dalish?” He voiced thoughtfully, “Would it not be more practical to hide among the city elves?”

He watched as her expression darkened, uttering quietly, “I did, only once.” She continued, her eyes fixed firmly on the table, a far off look in her eyes. “I altered my spell to make my face appear bare to book passage across the Waking Sea from Kirkwall to Highever when I fled the Free Marches.” 

He grew still at those words. The thought of Revas in that city of chains was unsettling, from what he knew of the city, that’s where freedom went to die.

“I was looking for discrete passage and I had originally thought myself fortunate that there were many looking to flee the city at the time. It was just after the champion defeated the Qunari. I had plenty of company to blend in with; I had covered my armor with simple clothing, my daggers hidden beneath an apron. Aside from my pack I looked like I could have been any of them,” she stated solemnly. 

He watched as the storm of the memory raged across her features. 

“Kirkwall was my first real city,” she explained, “So despite it looking like the worst place in Thedas I thought it would be alright once I had gotten passage on a ship with all the other elves.” She paused, “In my naiveté I reasoned it wasn’t too strange for elves to be separated with their own ship, after all, they live in alienages, and humans generally make their disdain for elves known.” She met his gaze with a look of hurt that sent a pang of sorrow through him. 

He kept his voice carefully even, “Slavers?”

She nodded, “Slavers. I caught on when they had locked the hold the first night we were out at sea.” She took in a deep breath, “I’m not proud of what I did to them,” she conceded. “The elves in the hold with me were distraught but they lacked the power to change their fate, none of them mages, and not a single weapon. They were servants, runners, families. They followed chantry rhetoric; some of their children had even been taken by the circle. When I revealed myself to them they were afraid, afraid of the markings on my face, my armor, weapons, my magic. It was the only time I ever revealed myself willingly,” she voiced barely above a whisper.

He listened intently as she told him of how she melted the locks in the middle of the first night. Telling everyone to stay in the hold, to keep quiet and cover their ears. Then she described in detail how she swept through the ship, cutting down every slaver in her path without mercy, throwing them to the sea. He imagined her feral rage, her unbound fury as she recounted liberating the ship, blades of fire in the darkness. 

“One of the slavers had made it to the hold,” she spoke quietly. “He had killed a young couple that had tried to rush past him. I had wanted to spare the others the violence, but I was furious.” She looked away, “He did not die quickly.”

“I terrified them,” she whispered. “They asked what manner of demon I was. I simply told them I was Revas, Freedom, and that freedom was sometimes bloody. I think they were more scared of that, of me, than the slavers. I was lucky there were some dockworkers in the hold willing to help me sail the ship to Highever.” She let out a long sigh. “The rest stayed in the hold and probably feared for their lives. They had seen enough bloodshed in Kirkwall, and I was nothing but an omen of more misfortune to come, it didn’t even matter that I’d kept them from being sold like livestock.”

“It tainted my view of people for a long time,” she confessed. “I all but fled from Highever, I barely even took in how much nicer the city was. I was just thankful that no one dared stop a ‘dalish’ elf armed to the teeth from storming out the gates. It wouldn’t have ended well for anyone.”

Her eyes settled back on his, “So to answer your question, No. It would not be practical for me, to hide among them. The small injustices they face every day, I wouldn’t be able to abide it. I would be a danger to them. It’s so opposed to my nature that it’s better for everyone else if I stick to the wilds…” she trailed off, gazing idly at him, her eyes roaming his face. 

“It is better they see the savage and keep their distance,” she uttered quietly.

He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy at her words, bearing his markings had put her though much more than he imagined. Her answers had given him quite a bit to think about. Her views, her bitterness about her people and people in general mirrored his own. Her trials so closely reflected his. He wondered if her namesake would be enough to set her apart from his, to keep her from making the mistakes he made. The fact she managed to survive this far had to mean something, what that was- he wasn’t quite sure.

\---

They finished their food and wine in companionable silence punctuated occasionally by trading small observances of their influx of new companions, and lighthearted debate that escalated in increasingly ridiculous ways the chantry was likely to screw them all over. 

Revas finally spoke up, sensing he would be leaving for his own cabin soon. “Solas, I... I wanted to thank you.” She made a sweeping gesture, “For everything.” She inclined her head to him in respect. “I haven't had someone to really talk to in years, much less anyone who cares enough to listen. It's... I've missed this.” 

Solas smiled at her with a warmth she had come to enjoy. “Lethallin, we have more in common than you know. It has been a long time since I have come to enjoy the company of another.” 

She chided, “At least outside of the fade.”

He chuckled, “Indeed.” He rose from his chair. “I had better return to my cabin lest I overstay my welcome.” 

“Solas, what little that is mine,” she gestured vaguely around her meager possessions as she stood as well, “You are always welcome to.” 

She watched his gaze shift from light surprise to something much darker, a small hesitation in his movements before he closed the distance. Towering over her slightly as he leaned in, his lips brushing her pointed ear, “Did you think you could hold me for several hours- and that I'd not return the gesture?” He then swept her up against him in a tender embrace that belied the retaliatory heat in his words. A slightly startled "Oh" carried on her sigh. He exuded a comfort she didn't expect as he cradled her neck with one hand, gently pressing against the small of her back with the other. She found her body betraying her interest, relaxing into his hold, her hands tentatively resting on his hips. She felt his every exhalation in the fall of his chest, the heat washing over her neck. He pulled away suddenly and she had to force herself to stillness, to not chase the heat of him, its absence making the room seem cold by comparison. She suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands as he towered over her once more, mere inches away, so she hugged herself tight. It was a pale mockery of his embrace.

“Be careful what you offer Revas”, his voice rumbled low in his throat as he lowered his mouth close to her ear once more. “You are not the only one who can play this game.”

She shuddered, not daring to move. Her face heavily flushed and her breathing uneven as he straightened up. She dared the slightest movement to meet his gaze and found that damnable man smirking at her.

“Sleep well Revas.” He turned and left without another word.

More minutes than she dared to count later she was aware she was still rooted to the spot. He had played her well, waiting so long to retaliate she never saw it coming. If she’d learned anything from the exchange, it was that he’d confirmed for her the other side to him she suspected. She liked a challenge, “Well two can play this game indeed,” she vowed.

* * *

She dreamed of an old darkened forest that night, trees bigger around and taller than any she had ever seen. She dreamed of a great wolf stalking her through the darkness. She had resolutely tried to ignore it at first while always mindful of its location as she trotted through the forest in her own markedly smaller dark wolf form. That she had chosen to dream of herself as a wolf was a curiosity, such dreams were very uncommon for her, but she let the thought slip her mind as she explored. The great wolf was proving to be very hard to ignore, it shone white like an immense beacon in her mind. No matter how she tried to keep to the shadows the bright wolf would shift, illuminating her in his brilliance. She wondered vaguely if it was some sort of metaphor. She was wary, yet mostly unafraid as wolves rarely hunted their own kind; though a wolf alone could mean many things and slowly an unease rose in her thoughts. She felt it wanted something of her... She wasn't sure what. She continued exploring the dream figuring it would probably ask in its own time.

After what felt like hours of this strange game of hide and seek, she finally became frustrated with its brightness clinging to her. She faced him and sat abruptly at the edge of the clearing she’d just crossed. The great wolf mirrored her on the opposite side. She canted her head considering the beast before she jumped up, trodding off around the edge of the circle, only to watch him do the same going the opposite direction. The other wolf never letting her closer than he wanted. She turned and dashed towards him wondering if he'd take the bait, or retreat. Instead this great wolf trotted a circle around her refusing to let her close, and more pointedly, refusing to run away. She stood still in the middle of the clearing, growling, “Who are you?” 

The wolf answered, **“You know me.”** Still circling her.

She was startled, engulfed in a wave of panic, you know me? That could mean many things... She was beginning to feel like this standoff was coming to an end as the wolf began circling closer. She got the distinct feeling that running from this wolf would likely get her nowhere, but she was more afraid of what would happen if she didn't, her keeper’s vision playing in her mind. She knew it was sensing her fear, sniffing the air with its great snout, drinking it in. 

She bolted away, tearing through the forest as fast as she could. Her claws tearing up the soft ground, she dodged trees and burst through branches that scratched at her like they were trying to hold her down. Nothing was responding to her will, she briefly considered the possibility that this wasn’t her dream; in fact the whole environment seemed to be actively working against her. She leaped through gaps she knew were too small for the great wolf to pass, hoping she could delay him. She couldn't see the light streaming after her anymore; she paused listening intently, holding her breath.

 **“Found you, little wolf.”**

A wild panic took her, that voice was far too close! She scrambled away and took off running only to be slammed into, teeth closing about her nape as she was forced into the dirt. A deep booming growl preceded his command.

**“Submit.”**

She struggled but couldn't gain purchase to shake his hold; the beast had her effectively immobilized with his teeth gently but firmly in her neck. He growled in warning, sending reverberations down her spine, shaking the air from her lungs. The combination of her captor’s efforts drove all the fight out of her, she couldn’t run from this much longer. There was only one way out of this she realized... She had been caught, and this wolf wasn't going to let her go. 

She let out a pitiful whine. The teeth relinquished their hold as she rolled over, showing him her belly. Her fear only grew when she took in the wolf towering over her, Jet black and many red eyes- the night sky of his form gazed down at her unblinkingly. Darkness rolled off of his great form like smoke. “Fen’Harel,” she gasped. He bent his head down to hers and spoke softly, kindly in great contrast to his commanding tones earlier.

 **“You need not fear me, my little wolf, you are _MINE_. And I protect what is mine.”**

He licked her, snout to forehead. Exhaling a great dark breath over where her markings now shone through her fur. The dark form of him present in his exhalation, she watched in wide-eyed disbelief as it sank into her markings.

* * *

She woke in a blind panic, scrambling out of bed and crashing to the floor. She was shaking uncontrollably when she reached for the small mirror on her bedside table and nearly dropped it when she saw her true vallaslin shining red through her illusion. As her disbelief grew the markings dimmed, finally allowing the illusion to cover them once more. 

She did not sleep again that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much dialog, sorry. I hope it feels as relevant as I seem to think it is.
> 
> Was anyone else expecting that dream to get weirdly smutty?  
> Almost got out a newspaper to bash them on the nose.  
> and I'm the one writing it...
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah... you should take that as a sign this fic isn't going to get much better before it gets worse.  
> *nervous chuckle*
> 
> PS: not that it particularly matters, but the Elven apostate never did make it to the clan that was rumored to be in the Green Dales, but instead turned himself in to the circle at Ansburg where he contributed to First Enchanter Luidwegs theory of "[the interplay of spirits in the common laundry room](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_The_Basket_of_Lost_Socks)." But not before tipping off the city guard, provoking the manhunt that chased Revas south across the Minater and towards the Vimmarks. The clan wasn't her former clan, _they_ had moved south to the source of a tributary of the Minater, north of Markham. 
> 
> Yeah, I pretty much stare at a map of Thedas as I write.


	4. In Which A Wolf Stood Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope follows misfortune follows hope. Mistakes are made, tentative bonds formed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'd call this slow burn, maybe medium burn? Some sort of burn. Or at least by the time I'm done with this you'll want to burn this whole fic to the ground.
> 
> 3/29 + 1562 words

Solas woke from his dream feeling unnerved at what had transpired. He'd had similar dreams of Revas since she had revealed her ability to him, since he’d stopped invading her dreams. But this one felt... _Different_. Less wistful fantasy and more like harsh reality. He sought out the weak connection between him and Revas and he felt panic rising in him. It was stronger than it should be.

“No-” he uttered in disbelief.

He bolted upright out of bed, pacing the floor of his cabin. It couldn't be possible! She couldn't have entered his dream... Could she? Not without him realizing... surely? Could he have imposed on hers?

He shook his head as if it had the power to shake off his thoughts. What he had done to her… Conquered her as if she was his and his alone! He had branded her with his tongue as surely as the mark on her face, the wellspring in her hand. He’d accepted her markings, accepted her servitude, given her his protection. Thousands of years he’d resisted marking anyone, and in a single night of reckless fantasy he’d ruined it all. Yet, at the dark heart of it all, he couldn’t tell what made him angrier, his foolish actions or the fact that she’d run from him in fear. 

He felt for her markings again, she was moving, _quickly_ away from Haven. He froze. What had he done? Ruined his only hope to fix his mistakes, _again_. He resolved to fix _this_ at least, to go fetch her back before he lost her. They all needed her, _he_ needed her- the vessel of his mark, and now his sworn sentinel. He had finished hastily dressing and gathering his belongings when he felt the faint tug of her presence stop. He held his breath waiting, hoping. She didn't keep moving. 

He let out a long breath, bracing himself against the wall. She was outside the walls of Haven, but not far. He crept outside his cabin and took a deep breath of cold air to calm his nerves. He scanned the valley before his gaze settled on a fledgling fire being lit on the precipice of rock overlooking the lake. He stared at the distant beacon for a long time weighing his options before deciding to allow her the peace she surely needed. He would seek her out come morning if he must, and decide what to do from there. Reminding himself that she couldn’t know that it had been him, he needed to be patient, he needed to think this through. That she could make him so impulsive did not bode well. He had a lot he needed to think on. She would not be the only one who wouldn’t find rest this night.

He turned away and retreated inside, closing his door quietly and sinking to the floor against it, all his strength sapped from him. That he was handling her poorly was an understatement. He pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to sort through his thoughts as rationally as possible. 

He was thousands of years out of practice when it came to dealing with affection, the embrace had been incredibly impulsive and it was likely what triggered their shared dream. He'd meant it to be a warning, for her not to offer such things to him, yet he also couldn't resist gauging her reaction. To see if she would still flinch away from him. It had become an unnervingly tender moment, although it had informed him of what he sought to know- she was receptive to him. Simply asking her posed its own problems, he did not wish to reveal his hand, nor his own interest. It was safer to hide behind the premise of retribution, a game. He could not tell whether he was attracted to his markings gracing her form, or the woman that bore them with such grace. If he had been honest with himself, then the act had simply distilled to the desire to feel her heart beating up against his once more. Her warmth reminding him that she was alive, that she was real, that she was more than the shadows of his people stumbling through their short lives.

And now she was in truth. She was his. He'd elevated her after a fashion, not only bearing his mark, but now also bound to him. A sentinel of sorts, someone he would have to protect, someone now obligated to protect him. It was not what he wanted, yet fate seemed to revel in laughing at what he wanted. It filled him with guilt, yet she need not ever know. His connection to her was stronger, part of his obligation to protect her, it was yet unbeknownst to her and so long as he did not dwell on the connection then she would _never_ know. He would not impose his will on her, a geas. The thought was abhorrent. It was the most prominent thing he and Mythal disagreed on. Indoctrinating willing supplicants was one thing, but taking Revas... Without her even knowing what it meant? It was a violation. The thought made him snarl, climbing to his feet to pace about his cabin. The dark cloud of his thoughts a tangible darkness in the unlit room. But then the memory of her pulse quickening against his, the way she relaxed in his hold… It _calmed_ him. He let himself focus on the memory. It was a calm he rarely truly felt. To not be alone. To share his burdens... Could he dare hope for that? He shook his head. No, hope was not something he should lean on, but perhaps... It was something to consider.

In the meantime he would guide her, help her in the task that had been appointed her. Protect her from harm, and when the time came he would release her. _His_ little wolf. He sighed deeply, there was nothing to be done now but to see where this led. There was no way he could remove the connection without removing her markings, and removing her markings required explanations he couldn’t give her. Not yet at least.

\---

News had spread fast that their _Herald_ had taken up watch of Haven during the night. It had bolstered morale considerably. Apparently before her run into the night she had informed the guards at the gate that she was going to sit watch beyond the lake. Many felt that it meant the Herald was one of them, and they loved her for it. He approved of her thoughtfulness, that she was making an effort to belong. She would need all the help she could get. It seemed she couldn't help but turn misfortune into hope wherever she went. Only time could prove if she could do the same for him.

She even seemed to catch on to what her flight into solitude had inspired as she walked back through the gates at sunrise. Still adorned in the dark wolf pelt that normally graced her bed, the head and fangs framing her face, fur mantled over her Dalish inspired armor she looked like a warrior queen straight from the wilds. Solas thought idly that Mythal would love her. She even went to report to the spymaster to formally complete her watch.

Solas couldn't help but feel a fondness radiating through his chest for her, his little wolf. Maybe he hadn't made a mistake. Maybe she really was worthy of the power she wielded. Maybe next time- she wouldn't run from him.

\----------

She hadn't realized what her excuse to run out into the night would inspire. At the time she had been torn between being in danger and being a danger to others so she donned her armor and after a thought, her pelt, shouldered a bow and quiver she had recently commissioned, strapped her daggers to her thighs and went to wait out the night to see what may come of it. She was prepared to flee Haven at a moment’s notice. 

As she sat around her small fire, she found herself keeping watch in earnest, silently protecting the small settlement behind her. Small noises in the valley seemed to amplify against the mountains strangely, before being swallowed into silence by the snow that began to fall. She had finally begun to consider the dream as the snow built up around her. 

It had been unusually intense, and although the implications made her anxious. She found she was no longer as afraid. He said he would protect her didn't he? She silently cursed her lingering Dalish superstitions, he hadn't eaten her heart. Nor had he really done anything she hadn't expected. It was actually very similar to the vision her keeper had gravely imparted before branding her with his mark, though she was glad they hadn’t fulfilled it yet. She chuckled to herself. She had nothing to fear from him. She was his after all. 

Though, as she settled down from her immediate fear, doubt began to set in. If the vision had merit, if her markings had merit… Had the clan been right? What did any of this truly mean for her? She shook away those thoughts- No. That was not a road she could go down and not lose herself. Though Fen’Harel seemed to definitely exist… Truthfully she had wondered. He hadn’t asked her to destroy the world, to terrorize the people. No. She was _still_ not a monster. She pushed the thoughts away for now, there was nothing she could do to change what happened, and without new information she’d unlikely puzzle any meaning out of it. 

In her renewed calm her thoughts shifted to Solas. She wondered if she should tell him, would he even believe her? With everything he’d taken in stride so far, he was probably the only one who would. Yet, was he just playing with her? He had embraced her but he had spun it as retaliation for her mostly accidental moan of his name. The way he held her had felt genuine, and warm, and she wanted nothing more than to figure out how to make that happen again. She imagined it must be what it felt like to be cared for. It hadn’t been something she realized she wanted, needed before. She was certain her blush radiated so much heat at the thought that she was melting the snow that strayed too close to her in its descent. 

She still didn’t know what to make of him, but that was ok for now she thought. He had actually called her lethallin. Perhaps it was somehow a step in the right direction. 

The rumors and whispered conversations painted her in a strange light, she found, as she stumbled bleary-eyed back through Haven while the sun crested the mountains. She didn't feel nearly as imposing and deific as they claimed. In fact she was distinctly exhausted and cold down to her bones, hoping to beg off her duties for the day after reporting to Leliana. She was thankful they had consented to the request as she trudged to her cabin, not even stopping for breakfast. Feeling much safer at the prospect of sleeping during the light of day, she figured she might as well make her watches a habit while she could. It would give her a good excuse to stay up all night in the quiet to gather her thoughts, to consider her situation and try to plan her next moves.

She hadn’t counted on the unexpected amount of visitors her little campfire drew.

* * *

It was to be her second night on watch. She had dozed off as soon as she fell on top of her bed half -undressed that morning. Not waking until just before dinner, which she hastily ate to quell the grumbling pit in her stomach. She donned the chain mail, dark stained leathers and red tabard of her usual armor and grabbed the pelt from her bed carefully placing its head over hers and draping the rest about her shoulders. The donning of her armor had become oddly ritualistic for her since waking up in Haven, though it was like having to become someone else. Someone who was appropriate to lead people, not run from them the first chance she got. She grabbed her bow, quiver, her pair of daggers, and a handful of knives as well as a small wine skin and assorted rations. She had learned better after the first night with nothing to eat or drink.

She trod out into the night once more, informing the guard where she'd be, before heading out around the lake gathering firewood as she went. She set a fire rune she had purchased from a traveling merchant on the ground to melt the snow on her perch, having decided it would be too dangerous to use magic so close to Haven. Soon she had a merry little fire going. And not long after that the first scout stopped by. 

Quiet footsteps had pricked her ears, preceding a cheery feminine voice that called out- “Good evening Lady Herald!” 

“Good evening” she offered in return, taking a stab at human courtesy once more. “Come to share my fire?” 

“Oh no, I shouldn't,” the scout replied, “Sister Nightingale bid us to include you in our rounds should you appear out here at night.” 

Revas chuckled, “Well then I am glad to be of service. All's quiet here, any news that way?” She tilted her head off in the direction the scout came from. 

“All quiet tonight Lady Herald. Not so much as a nug out there!” The scout giggled. “I will be on my way, many more stops to make!” She sketched a light bow, “Hope for a quiet watch, Lady Herald.”

Revas inclined her head as the scout turned away sneaking off into the dark. 

“It seems you have made quite an impression lethallin.” 

Revas turned around abruptly to see Solas standing at the edge of the other side of the fire light. He had donned his armor and staff, with a small pack over his shoulders. He had been unnervingly quiet as usual, though his presence wasn’t an unwelcome one. She chuckled quietly, “It seems so. I had no idea my impromptu guard watch would catch so much notice. Come to join me?”

“If that is your wish” he supplied, a smile crinkling his eyes.

“Of course Solas, please.” She found herself returning that smile as she moved the fire rune between them. He made himself comfortable next to her, closer than the careful distances he normally placed between them.

She watched him as he surveyed their surroundings before he turned back to her. She looked at him appraisingly as she caught his eye and he supplied, “No one close enough to hear us.” She grinned, “In that case...” She made a show of the wine and snacks she brought, while he in turn laid out his own pack with similar contents. They shared a lighthearted laugh over their spoils. After drinking a mouthful of wine Revas considered the man before her, finally voicing a question that weighed on her mind. 

“How is it you know where to find me?” 

She watched the thoughtful expression rise on his face before continuing. “In snow I know I leave tracks, but in that forest in the Hinterlands I shouldn't have been trackable. I was certain I had plenty of time to liberate those wolves before you found me.” 

Solas gazed at her appraisingly, and she certainly didn’t miss the surprising bit of heat in his eyes. “Your mark,” He cleared his throat, clarifying, gesturing to her hand “The mark on your hand, I can sense the power in it. It is… likely not something you would notice, tied to it as you are. It is a subtle pull of energy. That is how I was able to find you.” 

She considered this thoughtfully. “Hmm I suppose that makes a lot of sense for a rift mage.” She eyed the apprehension on his face, “Oh, no it doesn't bother me that you can find me Solas. If anything, it’s… comforting.” She blushed slightly. Her voice dropping just above a whisper, “If I ever get lost at least someone has a chance of finding me. I've been untraceable for far too long,” she finished, meeting his gaze. 

The smile had returned to his features. It was such a lovely thing she thought, bright and full of warmth and perhaps a bit of pride at times. Perhaps he approved of her answer? After sweeping the area with her eyes to make sure they were still alone, she turned back to him. “May I ask what prompted your sudden decision to join the guard roster last night? She tilted her head, weighing her words. She truly dropped her voice to a whisper this time, “I had strange dreams last night.” 

“Oh?” His eyebrow on the rise again. “Spirits?” After a beat he amended, “Demons?” 

She hummed thoughtfully, “You know, I hadn't considered that, but no, stranger than that I think.” His face had a quiet calculation about it, “If you do not wish to speak of it I will not pry further Revas.” She considered him a moment. “I just don't know how to word it.” She drank from the wine skin again, giving up on eloquence and putting it bluntly “I think... I was claimed by Fen'Harel.” 

She noticed his eyebrows reaching skyward in tandem. 

“I know, does that sound crazy? I'm not so sure myself. The dream was unusually present, vivid.” Her thoughts felt like they were in a rush to escape her mouth as she recanted her dance with the great wolf. “I ran, I hadn’t wanted to at first, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. And then he caught me and I... uh _submitted_. He did something to my markings,” she pressed her marked hand to her forehead. “Something sank into them and they glowed in the end of the dream and when I woke they were still glowing... _Through_ my illusion.”

She sighed dropping her hands in resignation, “What does that even mean?”

Solas' eyebrows had settled back down from their hike, he stopped her musings with a light touch to her hand, the slight gesture of familiarity sending a jolt through her “Another scout” he whispered.

She looked up and scanned the dark mountainside. Sure enough the next scout was making his rounds. 

\---

This one had at least taken some of her toasted crackers. He grinned as he finished his report and set off into the dark, slight muffled crunching sounds following him. She suppressed a chuckle, her shoulders shaking with the effort. “Oh I hope those crackers don't get him killed!” 

Solas laughed in earnest, “It would be a shame indeed. Those crackers made his night.” 

The chuckle finally escaped her lips as she tried to muffle it in her hands. When she finally calmed down Solas turned back to her.

“What do you think it means?” he inquired. His eyes were laden with a muted eagerness.

She gazed up into the sky leaning back on her hands searching herself for an answer. “I think it means he's real for one, two that my markings bind me to him somehow.” She considered some more, “And that I won't come to harm under his protection.” She finished. “Beyond that I guess I can't say.”

“That is well reasoned lethallin.” Solas had that intense expression again, assessing, as she met his gaze once more. It was becoming easier to accept the scrutiny he leveled at her. “How is it you believe me Solas?”

He stated simply, holding her gaze as gently as he had held her, “I have seen strange things myself, and I have never known you to lie, Revas, even when it would be easier on you than the truth.”

Her lips pulled up into a slight smile, “Why Solas, I do believe that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He chuckled, “If that's what you consider a compliment then it will be all the easier to surpass it.” She couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her ears. It didn’t help that for the duration of their watch, no matter the subject, his eyes rarely left her. She was certain she was now putting the fire rune to shame.

* * *

She took a handful of watches that week and each time she'd have visitors. Some like Bull and Krem would only stay a few hours, regaling her with tales more outlandish than her own, thoroughly distracting her from her duty with alcohol so strong that it should be outlawed. Others would take up the post with her all night. Cassandra pulled one night, telling her about everything from dragon hunting to the romance serials Varric wrote. They had even read one side by side for a time, both of them blushing furiously. She had no idea the Seeker had a soft spot for romance… although it explained a few things. The woman seemed to want to make an effort to know her better, and she couldn’t help but want to answer her questions, as best she could. Though when the Seeker asked what she believed in, it gave her pause. What did she believe in? Nothing? The elven gods? She wasn’t sure anymore. She had thought the elven gods were just fanciful stories for a long time, yet there was undeniable evidence in her mind that at least one still hung around. She doubted the Seeker would like that answer, so she went with _luck_ , for good or ill. Blackwall had stopped by for a bit that night and the two warriors compared sword and shield techniques. She wasn’t sure what to make of the gruff man.

One night she was surprised to find Cullen wander into her campsite. She learned he grew up in Ferelden so they talked for hours about the land and the people and the dogs. She had the distinct feeling he didn't welcome sleep, so she came up with stories about his homeland as long as he stayed. He'd told her later it was the most lighthearted he'd felt in weeks. 

Sera even came out on the last night rambling something about you're elfy, but not elfy-elfy. They had quickly devolved into a snowball fight that at least two scouts had joined in on. Snowballs were flinging in from the dark so it was a little hard to tell. Sera had been thoroughly won over at that point and after a lengthy and embarrassing conversation about butts the two spent the next several hours plotting various pranks. She had never realized just how many uses bees had. This was of course when Varric showed up, having overheard far too much. He must have whispered a rather nasty prank to Sera, as she sprinted off as soon as he finished, yelling “NUGS!!! That's genius that is!!!” Giggling madly all the way to the front gate. Of course Varric decided to ask her several pointed questions about "Chuckles". Apparently word was getting around that she was the only one he’d actively seek out, not to mention he’d been seen leaving her cabin, _late_ , and then there was that night he’d been on watch with her, silhouetted against the fire for everyone in the valley to see. And on top of it all apparently there was a grudgingly _lovely_ ballad being written about her falling off her horse only to be swept up by ‘the sinewy strength of the handsome apostate’. She had to be more and more creative about deflecting until her answers devolved into something firmly behind the lines of sarcasm- “You caught me Varric, we’ve been frolicking naked in the moonlight.” 

“Every little bit helps, Trickster,” he chuckled, a knowing look in his eye.

That threw her nearly as sufficiently as the horse had, “Varric did you… just call me trickster?” 

“I sure did, and you'd better believe you're the most difficult person I've ever had to nickname. I mean Tiny? Chuckles? Those were perfect, easy. But you, you're like the opposite of Daisy, and she was always going on about the dread wolf taking things. You on the other hand _look_ like the dread wolf taking things. You're taking their fears and tricking everyone into hope.” He sighed heavily. 

“Varric...” She started before he waved her off.

“Nah I'm fine really, just can't see this story ending well. Anyways hearing about you two plotting to tie ribbons and bows all over Tiny's horns to see if he can reach the knots? That sealed the deal.” 

So she found out Cullen wasn't the only one who had trouble sleeping. Varric had been through a lot too, so she played storyteller for a while telling him safe things from her wanderings, what her opinions were of the world’s problems, and placing silly bets on who would be bedding who by the time this was all settled, pretending to fall deaf at any mention of her own odds. 

As Varric headed back to the front gates she was hardly surprised to see Solas appear at the edge of her camp again. 

She chuckled, “How much of that did you hear?”

“I had planned on joining you when Sera left, however after hearing something about us frolicking naked in the moonlight I was content to wait to have you all to myself.” 

The admission, joking or not, sent a wave of heat through her that quickly flushed her face. “You just didn’t want to deal with Varric,” she chided, burying the betrayal of her features in her hands. “I'm gonna regret telling him that aren't I?”

Solas chuckled softly, “It's likely we'll both regret it sooner than later.” He settled down close next to her on the ground. She watched as he reached up and gently stroked the fur of her pelt. “This was a beautiful creature he mused, how did you come by it?”

“I found her after I had been in Ferelden for a time,” she answered, gazing wistfully into the fire. “Mercy kill. I had been running with a pack near Highever at the time and found her mortally wounded by an arrow. I didn't want her to suffer, and I knew the pack would dispose of her less kindly so I took her life, then her pelt and left.” She sat up and gathered the pelt up around her hugging it close. 

“It suits you, you wear it well.” The softness in his voice was endearing. It gave her the courage to reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you Solas.” 

His smile grew to mirror her own.

“Have you decided who we'll contact?”

“The Mages.” She sighed heavily, the peace in the small moment broken. “Is that selfish? It would be a danger for me to go to the Templars, I could be revealed. A silence I could handle I know how to fight without magic, but a purge? A smite? Aside from revealing my markings and my magic I understand that those two are crippling to suffer through.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, considering. “You are right to worry, and it speaks well of you to worry it's for selfish reasons. However the harm that could come to you would harm the Inquisition itself. It would not be wise to risk yourself in such a manner. You are the only one who can close the rifts.” He gave her another warm smile, oh she could get used to those. “Besides there's something very wrong with the Lord Seeker and we have an open invitation to the mage encampment. We might as well go see what they have to offer.”

She chuckled, “You make me sound so reasonable.” 

Solas had a mischievous look in his eye, “For a trickster you mean?” 

She laughed, “Yes, well, that was a little too close to the mark. Either Varric is too sharp for my own good or I've become far too conspicuous.” Solas mused “Perhaps a little of both.”

She threw a coy look in his direction, “Well then perhaps you can field his rather intimate questions next time.” He chuckled again, with apparently no answer to that. 

In the wake of their lull in the conversation her thoughts rushed back in, uncertainty tripping over her worries being waylaid by her confusing feelings for the man next to her. She laid back and crossed her arms over her stomach, gazing up at the sky, slowly letting out a drawn out sigh as if it could wash it all away. “I just hope my next nickname won't be traitor.” She glanced up at Solas, who had stiffened and donned a rather serious expression.

She continued, “They burned Andraste didn't they? For all I know I could share her fate if I'm not careful.” 

His voice was unexpectedly low and dangerous “They would not live long enough to regret it.” 

She turned to him in surprise, propped on one elbow. Was he really that protective of her? She kept wondering if there was truly something between them or if she was just imagining things. His heated tease could have just been simply retaliatory for her poking him. Though his once careful distances were growing less so, and he was also always there. He always sought her out instead of waiting for her to come to him. He reminded her of the wolf slowly circling her in her dream, never closing the distance, until she tried to force his hand. She wondered if he ever would if she didn't.

She had long forsaken company of any sort let alone anything beyond daydreams of romantic company. She didn't know if she should even dare to hope for companionship of that nature, to truly be accepted body and mind by another. She learned long ago that hope wasn't for her, it was only something she could give others, and only then while hidden. 

She sighed. Laying back down and stuffing her thoughts deep into the pit in her stomach where things she didn’t understand went. “Well, at least it's nice to know I'd be avenged.” She chuckled darkly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that the "two warriors comparing sword and shield techniques" is not a euphemism. 
> 
> Also Varric’s struggle is so my own. I’ve written ~30,000 words all the way up to skyhold and had to come back to figure out her nickname.
> 
> Everyone loves to write scenes on that sad little dock on the lake. I'm particularly fond of the cliff face, pretty sure it's the one Corypheus stands on with Samson/Calpernia, maybe? Perhaps it was something else. I didn't realize you could wander up that far until I tried ram hunting with a greatsword. 
> 
> I don't recommend that haha.
> 
> Also here's [Revas's Fen'Harel vallaslin concept](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/post/138260744790/dread-wolf-vallaslin-concept-on-my-inq-revas-for), I deliberately haven't described it because it took me far too long to settle on a finalish version of it. ~~[I'll just leave this even though the new picture in chapter 1 makes this kinda moot.]~~
> 
> [And here's a better version.](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/post/151812521860/its-been-one-of-those-days-ref)


	5. In Which The Wolves Spend Time Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA In Which Solas is a bit of a tool, and it totally backfires on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/30 + 1045 words

Solas knew he was getting too close to his little wolf but since their shared dream it was becoming more difficult by the day to hold back. Each new revelation about her, each new hurdle she overcame with that effortless grace of hers, that indomitable will; it was intoxicating. Her serious inquiries of him were generally few, yet they were often the most pointed, well thought out and carefully worded. He assumed in her exile she had to do away with questions, as she had put it to figure things out by observation alone, to recognize danger before it existed. He wished she would voice more of them, though he wondered how long it would take her to see through him. What she deduced from their shared dream; impressed him. He resolved to ask her what she could deduce from him.

Their fledgling connection was too much like how the world should be. He wanted to cling to her just to be sure she was real. He had almost given in when he reached out for her by the campfire but last minute deflected to her pelt, coming up with ease, another question he'd had yet to voice. He knew by the look on her face when he'd risen to anger over her concerns of being martyred that he'd shown too much of his frame of mind. He was surprised that she'd let him off the hook so easily at the end of their watch, perhaps she too didn’t know what to make of what lay between them. It was with that he decided he would see what happened if he was _‘too busy’_ to trek out to the Storm Coast with her the next day. As much he didn’t enjoy the idea, it would help answer many of his questions about the situation he’d put them in.

* * *

Solas had spent hours carefully staging his cabin to appear as though he was in the depths of important research, books and notes strewn about his desk, his bed, every available surface in plain view of the door. In fact his deception was so convincing he’d found himself considering reports in actuality long before the expected knock on his door. 

“Just a moment,” he’d called, loudly shuffling books and papers before striding to the door, opening it and seeing Revas standing there all packed and ready to leave. She was wild looking as usual, slightly groggy from sleep, he knew she was not much for mornings, having told him she’d usually spent her exile awake at night. He felt a small pang in his chest that he wouldn’t be going with her.

She had seemed to notice he was _‘in the middle of something’_ as her gaze drifted over the various tomes he’d left open in plain view. Even as half asleep as she was, she was still as sharp as ever. She finally met his stare with a slightly crestfallen look on her face.

“You’re not coming” she said at last.

He shook his head somberly, “I have received a few reports on fade rifts that need my immediate attention” he made himself say.

Her gaze had dropped as she swore under her breath.

He watched her carefully as her sleep addled mind started comprehending the implications of his words. His focus lapsed as he took in her sleep mussed hair, the soft unfocused lines of her face, her teeth biting her bottom lip… What it would be like to wake up next to her in all her fade given finery.

Her eyebrows scrunching together brought him back to reality.

“Damnit.” she swore, “This is going to be one unpleasant trip without you.” Her confession tugged at his chest, it wasn’t too late to call it off, to go with her. She met his gaze and he saw several gears catch and start working at once as she backpedaled, “Uh I mean, that means I have to ask Vivienne. A dry Vivienne is difficult enough to deal with, but a damp one?” she reasoned. “The Storm Coast lives up to its name this time of year.” A drawn out groan. 

That pang of guilt in his chest was getting stronger. He let it show a little as he replied, “You have my apologies Revas. I would not stay if it wasn’t important.”

She believed him so readily. It only fed the guilt that threatened to change his mind. “I know Solas, it’s alright.” She stared unfocused past him, “She’s not going to be nearly the capable healer you are, not with circle experience I think; besides she strikes me as an elemental. I just hope she’s not all lectures and actually knows what she’s doing.” She continued, “I’ll have to be careful, but something tells me she wouldn’t spot a mage unless it was wearing circle robes.” She looked back up at him a small sad smile on her face, “Although if she’s going to debate me about putting mages in their rightful place the entire time I might just turn into a wolf right under her nose.” She chuckled lightly. “Well… good luck with your research Solas, see you in… two weeks?” 

He inclined his head, “I look forward to your return Revas.” He added with a grave weight to his words, “Be careful.” 

He watched her tread up the path to the chantry to go fetch Vivienne. The pain in his chest was a dull throb. He’d had important research; that was true. He wanted to inspect his connection to her, how it felt at a distance. It would be easier without her so close, calling him. While it was markedly easier to restrain himself around her among their companions, it would do nothing to inform him of their connection, of how she would fare without him there. While he felt she might accept him, he could not trust the others. Though, even in his restraint he had often found himself seeking the weak pull of her markings, her presence, more and more as time went on, even with her being so close. It was a habit that did not bode well for their new connection. If he wasn’t careful she would feel him seeking her. Despite his self-reassurances that this was an important test for them both, he knew his absence would put her in danger. Perhaps the distance would help him compose himself, he was moving far too quickly with her and to what end, he had no notion. In the face of the many unanswered questions surrounding her, he found it didn’t bother him quite so much as how far away she was going to be from him.

A loud squealing from the direction of the chantry diverted his attention. Several groups of nugs were flooding out of the now open doors. He could just barely hear Revas’s hysterical laughter over the din of the chantry sisters’ and Vivienne’s outrage. It seems they now knew what Sera had occupied herself with last night. A small smile crept unbidden upon his features as he closed his eyes, cherishing that joyous laughter of hers. 

Hoping he wasn’t making a grave mistake.

* * *

They'd had a relatively uneventful trip sailing up Lake Calenhad. Well mostly. 

They’d given her horse to Bull for the trip, she chuckled darkly at the poor creature. Thinking, _yes, that’s what you get for throwing me_. Even though she knew it had been her own damn fault, although Solas was just as much to blame, infuriatingly handsome elf. They’d put her on his horse, the white mare, and she was much more forgiving to ride. She’d forgone using a saddle just as Solas had, it was more comfortable and… more familiar. Though it brought up _distracting_ memories. The mare was content to steer herself in Revas’ mental absence as her thoughts drifted to him. Wishing he’d come with her. While Vivienne didn’t seem to care about her undefined relationship with Solas, she felt outnumbered by the interest of the other two. Though, really it was mostly Varric asking questions, and Bull _staring_ … knowingly. She’d fired back, “Don’t you guys have better things to gossip about?” Which started a conversation of all the recruits the Iron Bull had already bedded, she was content to sit that topic out.

It felt objectively strange to be without Solas. Perhaps it was just that they had travelled together for so long that it felt weird to break up their dynamic? After all Cassandra wasn’t there either. She began to regret her absence as well. The Seeker’s taciturn glares had been more effective than she thought at keeping Varric in check.

It had taken them a while to find the right cove where the ship they’d hired was waiting. She was told they had to avoid Redcliffe for the time being, official presence of the Inquisition and all. It started out as a fairly relaxing voyage- she had always found travelling by boat fascinating. But by the third day into the trip with nothing but water to look at she'd found herself fed up with Vivienne's political views, and Varric's prodding questions so she declared unless they addressed her as her proper title, _‘Herald of Nugs’_ then she couldn't hear them. 

She wished she'd brought Sera along instead. That would at least have been fun, and had a better chance distracting her from her thoughts, although Sera was just as liable to make fun of her. 

Varric played along at least, that man would jump through hoops to get answers to his questions. 

“SO, Herald of Nugs, How do you feel about Mr. Herald of Nugs?” It provoked a laugh from her at least. “Varric, He’s not Mr. Herald of Nugs, and I feel like he’s a valuable asset to the Inquisition. Why don’t you tell me a story about Kirkwall instead of prodding me with questions I won’t answer?” 

“How about this Trickster, you tell me one thing about you and Chuckles, and I’ll tell you about Kirkwall.” 

“One thing? About the both of us… Uh together? Or like one thing each?”

“Whichever.”

She considered that thoughtfully, she always was far more likely to respond in trades. That was probably a habit she should try to break, at least around present company. A slow grin was forming on her face, oh she shouldn’t… but it was harmless enough to probably not get her in trouble. “Well, Solas smells… good. It’s subtle, clean like fresh elfroot, the slight tang of smoke, and something familiar I can’t place.” Varric wrote it all down eagerly as Bull piped up, “Wolf pelt.” “Wha?” “The other scent, it’s a wolf pelt.” She buried her face in her own pelt, inhaling deeply. “Hmmm, it smells different.” 

“Trust me boss.” He tapped his nose, “Could smell it a mile away.”

“Hmmmm…” She considered what she could tell Varric about herself that she hadn’t already. What would be sufficient without giving too much away? “Well, as for me… Oh, I don’t know, what do you want to know?” 

“How’d you like riding back to Haven with Chuckles?”

“Ugh… Oh fine, it was… nice.”

“Nice? You’ve got to give me more to work with than that.”

She grumbled, thinking back to that day, losing herself in the memory. How had it been? Terrifying at first, far too familiar a touch- to skip from holding his hand to practically being wrapped around him? Yet, it hadn’t been unpleasant once she got used to it. He was warm, his scent had nearly lulled her into dozing. It had been the only time he spoke up to tread on their silence. To tell her not to fall asleep, yet his voice carried that rare unreserved softness, and it had made her want to melt. A small wistful sigh escaped her, not realizing a traitorous blush had spread across her cheekbones. “Oho! That good?” She snapped back to reality, reluctantly replying with a small indignant “Yes.” He laughed, “That’s all I needed.” 

At least he held up his end of the bargain as he told her about the day he met Hawke and how he missed the city of chains. 

Vivienne had refused to stoop to her level and had started messing with Bull instead. It was weird to see the giant Qunari calling her “Ma'am” every other word. Maybe it had something to do with Vivienne’s pointy hat. She still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the big guy. He seemed too sharp by half, for only having one eye it was impressive how much failed to escape his notice. Though, he too didn’t care for her game, resolutely calling her “Boss.” She didn’t know him well enough to want to argue.

By the time they had reached the camp on the coast everyone was miserable for one reason or another. 

Most everyone else was unhappy about the cold rain and driving winds and had resorted to sniping at each other. She could handle the elements, but the pangs of loneliness creeping up on her made it just another thing to endure. The coast was so drenched that she was forced to leave her wolf pelt tucked into her bedroll at the camp. She felt naked without it, and even lonelier besides, but it would be better to have something dry to sleep with. She even missed Cassandra, they had a good dynamic. She knew just by the tone of the Seeker’s various battle grunts whether she should duck out of the way or press the attack. Being around unfamiliar people brought back her usual anxieties, a reluctance to open up. They were as yet, largely unknowns to her. 

She felt decidedly _odd_. There would be slight tugs at her heart, accompanied by vague feelings she couldn't place. She wondered if it was her missing the companionable understanding she and Solas seemed to have reached, or something else, perhaps demons? She rarely had trouble with spirits in her dreams, and she sincerely doubted they would make her feel this way while awake. Was this what it felt like to miss someone? It had been so long, she honestly wasn’t sure.

She tried to put it out of her mind as she hardened her resolve to find out what had happened to the Inquisition scouts in the area.

* * *

He was a wreck. He'd gone through all the reports, reread several of the books he'd acquired for his studies and yet none of it kept his attention from their connection for very long. It was like picking at an open wound. 

He sorely missed her presence, her questions, her secrets. 

It was unquestionably more difficult to discern their connection from this distance and it only enhanced his isolation. He had begun pouring more focus into reaching her, aware that in doing so it would begin forcing the connection open wider. It was a maddening cycle, and yet he found he couldn't stop himself. He desperately wished he’d gone with her. As the days passed though, he found himself wishing he’d stolen her away in his cabin instead. Keeping her by his side, tending to her needs, keeping her safe. It was not an impulse he could afford to indulge. Try as he might to quell such urges, they kept coming back. His experiment had been selfish, he was supposed to protect her. 

It was a hard lesson to suffer through, and he only hoped it wouldn't end in pain.

He should've gone with her. 

\-------

By the end of the first week he’d devolved into sketching her in his notes. He’d had pages of her face, her colorful expressions, her wolf form surrounded by the pack she’d freed, the depth of her fiery eyes, small scenes of her journey. Her keeping watch over Haven in her wolf pelt, her standing in the clearing of the cultist tower in the Hinterlands as they all revered her, even a montage of the intense concentration that consumed her features when she closed rifts.

He’d tried leaving her barefaced, he’d tried drawing her with the false vallaslin of Dirthamen, but he found he couldn’t stand either, much to his distress. When he looked at her, he saw his own markings. He knew he should be ashamed that he preferred her marked for him, having forsaken such things long ago, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be. 

Waiting only got worse from there.

* * *

She was frustrated and in an extremely dark mood by the time she had found the dead scouts and the paperwork detailing some sort of crest, a token to challenge the Blades of Hessarian’s leader. She grumbled steadily under her breath as she worked out how to craft the damn thing so she could challenge their leader and get out of this gods forsaken place. 

The others were sullen, soaked, and decidedly not talkative. Complaints took the place of questions, and Bull just sat silently watching, no doubt judging everyone and everything. All of it probably reflected badly on her somehow, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment, so long as they all made it out of here alive. 

It was going to be the last time she took this particular combination anywhere. Even if everyone else was busy, she’d go alone if she had to. They didn’t even fight well together. Bull was adaptable enough, but he tended to go into a bit of a rage in the heat of battle, charging enemies wildly, sometimes completely missing. This ended up leaving the rest of them vulnerable, which would have been okay if not for the fact Vivienne was more focused on shooting ice at everything that moved instead of barriers. They’d bankrupt the Inquisition for how many potions they were going through at this rate. 

\-------

She _HATED_ mabari. Everyone else saw cute cuddly dogs that were fiercely loyal, great companions, but she saw fear, and anger. She’d been hunted by the war dogs before. None of those memories had been good ones, this encounter was no exception. One of the leader’s mabari had clamped down on a wrist causing her to drop one of her daggers, and in the course of prying herself loose, taken a blow to the ribs by the leader’s war hammer. It had made her instantly furious with everyone and everything involved. It had taken great concentration to not just set the whole camp on fire. She wrenched her arm free of the mabari’s grip, tearing her armor and more than a few of the dog’s teeth out, quickly jabbing it in the eyes before it could lunge again. In the space of a heartbeat she’d reclaimed her dagger, and had launched herself straight at the man with the hammer. He moved to block her daggers but aimed too low, Varric’s many bolts studding the guy’s armor slowing him down too much. She brought both razor sharp blades down into either sides of his neck. He was dead before he hit the ground, _on top of her_. 

In the short amount of time it took for Bull to roll the Hessarian’s former leader off her she was completely covered in his blood and angrier than ever. 

She somehow had managed to keep her temper in check when dealing with the remaining Blades of Hessarian as they pledged themselves to her service. She had downed a potion at this point for her ribs, they were cracked to be sure, but not broken. Gritting her teeth she walked with as much dignity as she could back to camp. 

Revas had waved off Vivienne’s attempt to look her injuries over. She didn’t like the feel of her magic. It always had a chill to it, and it felt sterile, devoid of anything. She volunteered for first watch as Vivienne and Varric retreated to their tents, intending to wait until they were asleep to heal it herself. Bull was still sitting resolutely across the sodden campfire from her.

He was clearly after something, some mind game, some observational tactic. They sat in silence until the soft sounds of sleep drifted from the tents of their companions. He finally spoke up. 

“Look boss, I know this didn’t go as planned, and I know you’ve already judged us for it, but maybe you should look to your own fighting style as well.” 

Revas let out as long a sigh as her ribs would allow, “I know.” She looked him squarely in the eye, “Can’t afford to only go for clean kill shots in a fight for your life right?”

He nodded, “Its good you’re aware. You’re clearly a hunter but not fighting with _everything you’ve got_ , that’ll get you killed when your prey fight back.” 

She narrowed her eyes, he must know. “And sometimes it’s the carefully guarded tactics that catch your enemy off guard.”

He laughed quietly, “I don’t care what you are Boss, some of _them_ will care, and some more than others. I know your heart is in the right place. Though, you need to work your frustrations out with Solas, being distracted and short tempered will get you killed just as quick.”

She dropped her gaze. “Shit, that obvious?”

He nodded, “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes there’s something going on between you two. It’s obvious to me that you have it bad for him, and try as he might to hide it, he can’t keep his eyes off you. You two need a good roll in the dirt, you’re both wound up tight and a good fuck would do you some good.” 

She rubbed her face with her hands; she couldn’t believe she had to hear this from Bull of all people. Well, she supposed that was better than hearing it from Vivienne. She asked him quietly, “Are they really asleep or is Varric faking it again?”

Bull cocked his head, listening. “He’s really asleep this time.”

She scanned the area, they were sheltered enough in this camp from potential prying eyes, and she couldn’t see anything lurking out there in the dark. She summoned a small bit of mana for a healing spell powerful enough to knit her ribs and cuts back together. The relief she felt was tangible. She leaned back, and sat there in silence for a time, letting the rain wash the blood from her face and armor. 

“Thank you Bull,” she uttered.

“Don’t mention it Boss.”

* * *

Solas had occupied much of his time in the fade, trying to distract himself but even that had helped little. Upon waking nothing but apprehension and his continual plucking of their connection awaited him. 

He knew they were returning a few days early. He’d felt the faint stirrings of pain and anger from her. It had worried him greatly, to the point he almost set out to find her. A report that quickly swept through Haven stating that they were heading back and had gained the service of the Blades of Hessarian stayed his hand. 

So he waited, feeling her drawing ever closer, his sense of peace returning slowly in her increased presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I don't hate Viv, but I think Revas wouldn't like her very much at first, or maybe ever. Trust issues and all, plus secret mage/not wanting to be locked up.
> 
> I seem to think Vivienne’s magic comes from a place without emotion. Demons bother her quite a bit so I imagine her magic as clinical and utterly under her control, no warmth nothing telling. Fitting for the Iron Lady I suppose. I think there was some Cole banter that made me think that way… 
> 
> Or maybe Revas just likes how Solas’s magic feels on her skin. *waggles eyebrows*  
> Oh boy, that’s getting expanded on later.


	6. In Which Fate Laughs At The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advances are made, steps taken, a missed step due to a lingering injury, hands guiding gently.
> 
> Fate laughs at the wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/31 + 261 words

She was exhausted, but incredibly glad to be back in Haven. It was a sentiment that gave her pause as she slowly walked towards the gates, marveling at the change. When did Haven begin to feel like home? Like someplace she could belong? The thought scared her more than she’d ever like to admit. Lingering in any one place for too long was never something she was accustomed to, even with the clan, and her time in exile had only made the habit even more necessary. 

Though, perhaps the reason for her gladness had more to do with a certain bald elf that was waiting for her near the gates as she approached. She was suddenly overwhelmed with a consuming urge to just walk up to him and wrap her arms around him tightly, and never let go. She found the urge intriguing, it wasn’t something she ever would have guessed she would be prone to want. But then she didn’t know how he’d react, and she most certainly didn’t want an audience. She had to remind herself that everything she did would become gossip, and gossip would affect the Inquisition’s efforts. The weight of that obligation was beginning to stifle her good mood, so she shoved those thoughts away. She settled for a bright smile as she stopped in front of him, asking him about his research. He’d replied cryptically that it bore _interesting_ results. She raised an eyebrow in question but his only elaboration was a warm smile. 

She walked side by side with him as far as the chantry, where he asked her to have dinner with him. She agreed perhaps a little too enthusiastically, as she heard Bull clear his throat behind her. She turned and shot him a scowl, blushing as she looked back to see Solas’s eyebrow raised. She only replied that she’d see him for dinner before dragging herself to report to her advisors.

\-------

He’d needed to see her whole and undamaged with his own eyes. It had deeply pained him to know he hadn’t held up his promise. Even if she didn’t know he was the one who made it. He promised his protection and he foolishly failed her in his selfishness. He decided he would make it up to his little wolf. As the connection between him and Revas thrummed to new heights he set out to meet her at the gates.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he took in the sight of her; she looked tired but not too worse for wear. He felt his pulse quicken as she strode up to him with one of those brilliant smiles he’d sorely missed. He had endless questions, but he was content to wait until she was all his. He didn’t want their companions to overhear. He walked by her side up towards the chantry feeling truly at peace for the first time since she left. 

He impulsively asked her to have dinner with him, forgetting his cabin was a mess, and covered in sketches of her. Her enthusiastic “YES” made it completely worth all the cleaning he was going to need to do. Perhaps she had missed him as much as he had missed her. What he didn’t miss was Bull trying to nudge Revas to do something, but she dismissed both Bull’s efforts and his silent question. 

He walked back to his cabin humming a tune he hadn't sung in ages. Perhaps one day he'd sing it for her. In the meantime though he set to work hiding away his sketches in his leather bound journal, slowly setting his cabin back to an acceptable standard of organization. He fetched a bottle of wine from his stash and set about building up his fire. If the storm coast was as miserable as she'd said he knew she would welcome the warmth. He settled down to wait for her to finish her duties.

\---

He'd been adrift in thought, idly plucking the strings of their connection when he heard the knock at his door. He quickly crossed the room and opened it to see Revas standing there with a small grin on her face and a tray full of food in her hands. He noticed she had changed out of her armor and was wearing a simple black tunic that hung to mid-thigh, tantalizingly slit up the sides, over simple grey leggings. Yet she still wore her pelt over all of it. He couldn't stop the smile rising on his face.

“Come in,” he beckoned, shutting the door as he watched her head to his table setting the tray down. She turned on the spot taking in the sight of his quarters, idly sliding her pelt from her shoulders, hanging it on a chair. He watched as she sighed and turned to him.

“Why does your cabin feel more like home than mine?” she uttered with a small groan. He chuckled quietly, wondering if she was unconsciously picking up on their connection, or if she was that attached to his company. He gestured for her to sit as he poured them each a glass of wine before taking his own seat. 

She had sat rather stiffly. He eyed her with intent, trying to discern the nature of her pain. She discerned his meaning as she held his gaze.

She groaned and prodded her ribs, “I took a pretty bad hit on the coast from the former leader of the Hessarian's, she stated. “It's still sore and the bruising is impressive, I healed it myself but I had waited too long to do it, considering the company I had.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “Why didn't Vivienne heal it?” 

She scowled at the thought, “I don't like the feel of her magic, it feels dead, detached, and cold. I was plenty cold enough as it was.” She shivered at the memory before continuing, “Although Bull knows I'm a mage...” She trailed off. 

“Oh?” He’d been contemplating the implications of her assessment of Vivienne’s magic, wondering if his own was the standard by which she judged it lacking. He briefly wondered what his magic felt like to her, before her last remark pulled him away from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” her brows furrowed, “He knows things, that one. He didn't seem to care, and he seemed to understand it's my secret to keep. The others still don't know. Though, he hinted that they would care a great deal more than he does.” She sighed, “I don’t know if I’m just out of practice being around people, or if I’m really that easy to read.” 

“He knows things?” He repeated, wondering if there was more to it than her magic. “What things does Bull think he knows?”

He noticed she had dropped her gaze, and a flush had settled over her cheekbones. “He knows I...” She cleared her throat and met his gaze with an unwavering poise, “Well he knows I missed you, a lot.” 

A warm smile lit his face as he felt her words settle in his chest. So, she did miss him. His reaction spurred more words to tumble out of her at a rush.

“Well, I wasn't exactly subtle I guess. I was lonely and frustrated and it was cold and raining and between Varric's prodding and Vivienne's political nonsense I was pretty much angry the whole time. There was no one to talk to, and they didn't fight like a team, Viv was shit with her barriers and...” She sighed, “I missed you terribly” she professed, “I swear if you're ever too busy to go roaming the world with me I'll try to postpone it until you're not. _Please_ tell me you’re not too busy to come to Redcliffe with me.” She was blushing heavily, from her cheeks to the tips of her pointed ears. 

His heart swelled at her words. He heard himself say “I have missed you as well Revas, I would be more than happy to accompany you.”

\---

They ate and talked about his research on the fade rifts, her miserable trip to the coast. She was still blushing from her confession, and perhaps the wine but she found she didn’t mind so much. His reaction and his response had set her thoughts buzzing pleasantly as if she’d had much more wine to drink. 

She had been enthusiastically mid bite into some sort of amazing breaded cheese pocket when Solas chuckled. Her gaze snapped up and she realized he’d been watching her again. She briefly wondered, mortified, if she’d been eating like some sort of wild creature again. Table manners were hard to remember after long trips into the wilds. She forced herself to slow down, as she carefully finished the breaded pocket. “Sorry,” she uttered, “I never dined so well in exile. It’s easy to forget”

A small smile had graced his features, though he looked like he wanted to say something. She cautiously ventured, “There’s something on your mind?” She watched him consider her, weighing his words before finally voicing his thoughts.

“I had wondered,” he leaned forward, studying her, “How is it you knew those wolves were imprisoned? It was a dream was it not? Do you often dream of such things?”

She stilled at his words, taking in his eager posture. Slightly surprised he hadn’t asked earlier, especially after the shock it had given him at the time when she bolted out into the night. He seemed to measure his questions carefully, only voicing them after much thought. She tried to organize her own thoughts as intentionally. “Often? No,” she ceded, “The dreams seem to be limited to proximity, they seem to be something… deliberate, things that need rescuing.” She sighed, it was something she didn’t fully understand herself. 

His eyebrow was raised, “Deliberate? They are… shown to you?”

“I think so, they’re either only things I’m capable of fixing… or well I’m not sure, but I haven’t failed yet. Delaying acting on them is uncomfortable.” She noticed he was looking through her again. She relaxed against the back of her chair, letting down her guard and holding his gaze letting him see whatever it was he was so intent on finding. “The dreams get more insistent the longer they aren’t rectified. I think something is guiding me in that respect, but I don’t know what. It hates captivity, fear, and enslavement. It was disconcerting the first time it happened, but it has only occurred a handful of times since. So that’s why I ran, I felt it had to be fixed immediately.” She dropped her gaze at last, “So, I’m sorry… for running out like that.”

He was deep in thought for a time, finally uttering- “It is a wonder you ever made it out of Kirkwall.” 

She smiled brightly, an unexpected laugh escaping her. “Yes well, I had an idea it would’ve been bad so I made sure to get in and out as quickly as possible. Though it did make me question how the problems are picked… I thought for sure whatever it was wouldn’t let me leave the city.” She chuckled “I imagine if I ever ventured to Tevinter I’d be busy for the rest of my life. As it is, there are several humans, a couple elves and a whole bunch of chickens indebted to me out there somewhere.” 

He was looking at her incredulously. “Chickens…?”

She tried to contain her laugh and failed, doubling over as it shook out of her. “Don’t judge me!” She attempted again to contain her laughter, “I don’t pick the dreams.” 

He was pinching the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to remain serious. It only made her laugh harder. Oh she forgot what it was like to share things like this with others. She had mostly contained herself when he finally chuckled, and it only brought her around laughing again. She was wiping tears from her eyes when she finally settled down, eyeing the amused look on his face. He seemed to genuinely appreciate her company. “So anything else on your mind?” she ventured, sipping from her wine glass. 

“What precisely was Bull attempting to prompt after I had asked you to dinner?” 

She sputtered on her mouthful of wine, nearly choking on it. “Uh nothing,” she replied with a cough, “I mean I don’t know.” Silently cursing herself, she looked up to see his features were decidedly mischievous. 

He thrummed his fingers against the table, “At a guess I imagine that he was prodding you to say something, perhaps do something? Surely that hadn’t escaped your notice?”

“No,” she replied automatically, “Damnit” she was looking anywhere but him, and that’s when she saw leverage hiding under the table. She returned her eyes to his, aware of the heat rising in her face. “You’re probably better off not knowing,” she ventured.

“You would deny my pursuit of knowledge?” He had a mock look of shock on his face. Damnable man, he was toying with her. Very well.

She let her eyes roam over his form, conjuring up thoughts that quickened her pulse. Her breath slowed as her body began to react, she met his gaze heavy lidded, her pupils surely half way to blown wide by now. His expression was unreadable, but she had his rapt attention. “Are you sure you wish to know Solas?”

“Are you sure you wish to tell me Revas?” That was all the answer she got, he looked as though he was having difficulty staying composed, a hunger kept trying to make its home in his gaze. She let out a soft sigh, she’d been hoping her demonstration would have been enough to deter him, but it seemed to only intensify his interest. “He seems to think we’re all wound up about each other,” her voice lowered as she continued, “and that to fix it,” she leaned forward, “we should be wound up _in_ each other, though I believe the inelegant phrase he used was ‘a roll in the dirt’.” She watched as his eyes drifted shut at her words, desire sharpened his features. She uttered quietly, “And I can’t say he’s wrong.”

She wondered how she felt so confident in chasing this man, maybe it was the thrill of the hunt, maybe it was just because she truly wanted him and that this odd dance of theirs was what she had looked forward to returning to. What was the saying about absence and the heart? Clearly it had merit. She reached down underneath the table to grab the paper that had caught her attention before. 

It was… _her_. She had thought she might’ve imagined it. It was an ink drawing of her face in deep concentration. It was drawn in such detail that it surprised her, complete with her true vallaslin. Perhaps he had missed her more than he let on? It was a thought that gave her pause. No one missed her, people were usually glad to see her go. Could he really be interested in her? A genuine interest, not as a game as if she was some play thing? A smile drifted to her features, she looked up from the paper to see Solas frozen just shy of embarrassed, a pleasant red hue coloring his cheekbones. 

“I had no idea that you were so talented- well… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, you seem to excel in everything you do Solas.” She scanned the paper, wondering when she made this face. She scrunched her face up, mimicking the drawing, the realization dawning on her. “This is the face I make when I seal rifts!” She glanced back up at him, “Is this part of your fade rift research or…?” She wondered if he’d take the easy out.

He shook his head, a sly smile on his face “It was a study of your indomitable focus.”

She tilted her head at him, “Indomitable focus?”

“Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that the sight would be… Fascinating.” She had unwittingly played right into his hand. A soft “Oh” fell from her lips. 

He was watching her intently again. She dropped her gaze to the drawing in her hand. Following the strokes of her vallaslin, she studied them, trying to occupy her mind, trying to push out the thoughts threatening to break her. What was she supposed to do from here? She'd never chased anyone like this. Part of her worried she'd manage to mess up whatever they had, and she couldn't bear the thought of it. She didn't know the steps of this dance, she was blindly following his lead, it made her feel clumsy. 

“You are unlike anyone I have ever met Solas,” she whispered. Meeting his gaze, “Are there more of these?”

He looked hesitant, “There are.”

She allowed him a small smile, “Perhaps next time you can show me? I'm afraid if I stay much longer I'll wear out my welcome.” She gently set the drawing down as she noted several warring emotions on his features. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was trying not to. She tried to rise from her chair and failed with a groan, clutching her ribs. The concern in his face was immediate as he rose to evaluate her. 

She meant to wave him off, “It's nothing, just sore.” But he was having none of that. She felt his magic wash over her probing her chest for injury as he knelt before her. 

“Take off your shirt Revas.”

“Huh?” Heat was rising in her face as he met her gaze. 

He smiled kindly, “I wish to assess your injury.” 

She fought to clamp down on her unexpected embarrassment, as she reached up to the collar of her long tunic trying to remember that he'd seen more of her than this before. She attempted to tug it over her head but the soreness in her chest made the movement a failure. A groan escaped her mouth. 

“Do you trust me Revas?”

His eyes were locked on hers. “Yes” she whispered. 

She watched as he tentatively grasped her shirt guiding her arms up as he pulled the garment over her head. Neatly folding it and placing it on the table. She looked down, the bruising spread out over her ribs, creeping up under her breastband, was quite impressive. Perhaps she hadn't healed herself as well as she thought, no doubt being jostled on horseback aggravated something. She hadn't wanted to use too much magic, not even in front of Bull’s careful silence. He was right, not using her magic was probably going to get her killed.

She froze as he bent down and swiftly gathered her in his arms. Despite the discomfort of being moved, she couldn't help notice the strength in his hold as he turned and gently deposited her on his bed.

“Lay back” he instructed.

She did as he bade, trying to clamp down on the heat those words had provoked, grimacing at the pain. 

\-------

She had been touched by some sort of spirit, presumably a spirit of freedom, by her description. The implications of her dreams intrigued him and yet he wondered, how could she be touched by a spirit of freedom when she was bound with his markings? Surely that would be a conflict with the nature of the spirit, would it not make its displeasure known? Would it not leave her? He wondered when it had decided to take an interest in her. Freedom was something he had idolized, freeing many slaves in his time from their vallaslin, their compulsions. Yet here she was, guided by her namesake, marked for him. It couldn’t be a coincidence. It made him think of her keeper, the visions, he wondered if it were simply spirits or if it ran in bloodlines… if she and the keeper were kin? The thought had chilled him. Revas’s laughter had been the only thing to keep him from considering it further. He was amazed she could still laugh in such a manner after being put through so much.

He had fought to keep himself from voicing his thoughts when she decided to leave, worried about overstaying her welcome. It had felt like she had taken a step back from him and it only made him want to close the distance that much more. It dawned on him that she had probably never done this before, with anyone. Her steps were bold at times and uncertain in others. She was very much a wolf, reveling in the hunt, yet wary of an adversary. 

It had been a long time since he'd danced these steps himself. Staying his hand to do it properly, to not consume her outright was challenging. So he fought to keep the words spilling from his mouth, words she had said once to him. That he'd like nothing more for her to stay and never leave. To share all that was his with her.

He wondered what fate decreed that she would be physically unable to leave, like the heavens were laughing at his resolve, trying to break it for him. One more test to fail. He carried her gently to his bed and bade her to lie down. He didn't miss the heat in her features before the grimace of pain overcame it. 

The sight of her bottom lip firmly captured in her teeth, the bridge of her nose crinkled as her eyes were shut tight. He worked his hands slowly over her ribs, trying to focus on healing the lingering injury, and not letting his hands wander. It was difficult, heat was absolutely pouring off her. 

He finished his spell as he watched her face relax into something dangerously like pleasure. He bade her to turn over. She looked up at him, uncertain, before complying. 

She twitched slightly as his hands met her back. In his solitude of the past week he had often imagined what she'd feel like under his touch, the softness of her skin, the heat of it. He slowly began working over her knotted muscles. “Try to relax Revas,” he murmured. He felt her breath rush out of her as she buried her face in his pillow. Nuzzling into it and inhaling deeply. The sight of it affected him more than he would have thought. 

The noises she made as he worked over the muscles in her neck certainly didn't help matters. She was indeed wound up _so_ tight; it was immensely satisfying to watch her slowly melt under his touch. He thought to himself, there was more than one way to unravel tension.

She had fallen asleep before long and the urge to let her stay was overwhelming. To just lay next to her, his little wolf, to feel the heat emanating from her. To listen to the soft sounds rolling from her throat, to know she was safe in his care. It took every ounce of his will to wrap her shirt about her chest, and her pelt over that. She immediately snuggled into his chest when he gathered her up in his arms. He stood there a moment, not wanting to ever let her go. He eased his door open and carried her out into the night to her cabin, thankful her door was unlocked as well as for the lack of prying eyes. It had been late indeed. She had unconsciously clutched his tunic as he carefully backed into her door, shutting it with a dull thump, murmuring to herself when he heard his name on her lips. He looked down, but she was still fast asleep. 

Her cabin was cold, she was warm. He shifted her gently as he cast a spell for warmth heating the small space of her room quickly. He stilled as she clutched him more insistently. An incoherent mumbling falling from her lips that was immediately followed by “That's my tea Fen'Harel you can't have it. Drink your own.” 

He moved quickly to set her down on her bed to prevent the laugh contained in his chest from waking her.

The serious frown on her face only made his mirth more difficult to contain as he gently pried himself from her grasp. 

What a strange creature she was. He doubted in all his years anyone had ever uttered his name in such a fashion, entirely without fear. Not to mention he hated tea, if he was drinking hers it would only be because it was _hers_. He wondered if she was perceptive enough to realize that on some level.

He set about building up a fire to keep her warm through the night before tucking her into her blankets and pelt as she balled up.

He finally wrenched himself away from her side. Turning to leave when he heard a muffled “ _No_ , don't go Fen'Harel…” he froze, slowly turning back to look at her. 

“You can stay you just have to drink your own you silly wolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there is indeed a guiding hand in all this. I mean, besides mine.  
> Revas definitely talks in her sleep more than she thinks.
> 
> [Revas' clothes/armor Because why not?](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/post/142009631485/revas-typical-outfits-haven-halamshiral-and)


	7. In Which A Test Was Passed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moves and counter moves. A long trip in the blink of an eye. Careful steps to pass the trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry, ~~slightly cheesy chapter~~ made slightly less cheesy, yet surprisingly important for later on. For reasons.
> 
> 3/30 + 711 words

He’d been sorely tempted to seek out her dream, sorely tempted to stay as she unwittingly declared him to, but he thought better of it. His endless stream of thoughts kept him silent on the long trek to Redcliffe. He knew that his infatuation with her was unwise, it had to be, perhaps some sort of aspect of pride that demanded he make her his, more than she already was. Yet the nagging damnable reasoning in his mind cast hope on him that if anyone had a chance at understanding him, his motives, his plans, then it had to be her- his wolf. He had long idolized freedom, perhaps she was simply the natural embodiment of his desires, yet there was nothing simple about Revas. He wondered not for the first time what drew him to her, it felt as inescapable as his duty, but the pull was so much sweeter. It was becoming more difficult to feel guilty.

As they reached Redcliffe he simply watched this magnificent woman before him match wits with the magister that had somehow twisted the mages right out from under her. Mages that were bound in servitude by little choice, he knew she would be of a single mind now, that this would resonate with her nature so strongly she would not stop until they were free. This was her element, not dealing with nobles, not politics, not alliances. She was a force to be reckoned with once crossed, stabbing at the magister with carefully picked words. He had no doubt she would succeed, and he wholeheartedly approved.

The situation had intrigues upon intrigues, and Revas deftly danced through them all, even sneaking a few new agents out of town before following the note to the chantry where a fade rift and answers waited.

Before long they were heading back toward Haven, seeking out the ancient elvhen artifacts he'd told her about on the way. He hadn't missed the questioning look on her face when he'd said "Artifacts of _my_ people". He'd returned her silent question with a stone mask. Silently cursing himself for the slip, yet not ignoring the small bubble of hope in his chest that she'd use it and pieces like it to figure him out.

* * *

Despite returning to Haven mostly empty handed she felt exonerated for her choice to seek out the mages, yet deeply unnerved that what had taken place was supposedly to get to her. They simply could not leave such power in the hands of a Tevinter magister, this Venatori, and leave his supposed time magic unanswered. They had the breach to contend with, they didn't need time to unravel as well. Neither could she leave the mages to their fates in servitude. She had informed the advisors that she intended to wait for the magister to invite them to Redcliffe to conclude the talks, she also discretely asked Leliana to keep an eye on the templars who they now knew lay waiting at Therinfal Redoubt. It was possible they weren’t involved in anything nefarious, but she had an uneasy feeling about the Lord Seeker. Before she left she practically begged Josephine in private for a proper bath.

Somehow Josephine came through and she was up to her ears in the bathtub that had appeared in her cabin, the fire rune keeping the water pleasantly hot as she felt all the tension drain from her muscles. She hadn’t realized how much strain she was holding in them until Solas’s deft hands had unraveled her. The thought brought a flush to her face she couldn’t blame on the bath.

She'd never had to kill so many things with knives before and it was much harder work while suppressing her magic instead of using it to aid her attacks. In the heat of battle it wasn't always practical to use her bow so she largely gave up on it unless it played things to their advantage. She was slowly becoming accustomed to relying more on her daggers, yet more often than not she felt like she was constantly holding back a coiled spring.

This was bliss though. As she relaxed she let her mind drift to Solas. She’d woken up in her own bed all those days ago, which was surprising. The last thing she had remembered was falling asleep in his, much to her embarrassment. And yet, the care he must have taken with her was touching. Her fire had been tended in such a way that her cabin had stayed warm even until morning, not to mention she had definitely been tucked in, her shirt carefully folded, sat on the edge of her bed. She’d wished she had been awake to feel him carry her, it was such a pleasant feeling being held in those strong arms of his.

Her thoughts settled on that morning, as they had saddled up their horses to head to Redcliffe, Solas had greeted her with a mischievous look “Pleasant dreams last night?” To which she immediately blushed, suddenly mortified. She sent him a harsh whisper, _“Did I… say anything?”_ He had only chuckled before turning away from her and no amount of frantic whispers would get her an answer. She had spent most of that day silently going through anything she could remember from her dreams, they had all been weird, especially the one about cheese and the trees that only spoke in rhymes, and the disastrous tea party with Fen’Harel, if she _still_ talked in her sleep… yet no one had mentioned it to her. Surely… I mean Varric of all people would’ve said something… wouldn’t he? She had groaned thinking there was probably a list he was writing that was making the rounds, somewhere. She had thought her time spent in exile might have broken that quirk of hers. When Solas woke her up for her watch that night in camp, she had finally been able to thank him for taking such good care of her without someone overhearing. He had only replied that it had been his _pleasure_. The emphasis on the word had made her shiver, but he made no more mention of it as he moved on into his own tent for the night.

She felt like they were circling each other, neither making too bold a move. Resolves were tested, yet she wondered where it was all heading. She considered that it might take her running, in order for him to catch her. She sighed heavily, grabbing all those confusing thoughts and stuffing them back down. She grabbed up the wine glass she'd left on the edge of the tub, drinking deep before relinquishing it and sinking back down beneath the water. “Figure them out later Revas,” she griped, “I’m _supposed_ to be relaxing.” 

However that was simply not meant to be, as her own thoughts melted away she became aware of a feeling of apprehension. It felt odd but not entirely unpleasant. And she was almost certain by now it wasn't coming from her. Her brow furrowed, this had been happening more often. She had begun to notice feelings and expectations coloring her perception when she let her own concerns go quiet. It was usually some sort of anxiety, or longing. Every once in a while it would feel like something warm and enveloping. She had tried meditating once on an odd feeling and it had intensified before abruptly coming to a stop. She felt like she had touched something and it sharply recoiled.

She sighed as she grabbed the small bottle that had been left on the edge of the tub and poured some of its contents, which smelled of warm spices and probably whatever a coconut was (according to the label on the bottle) into the bath water. She hummed appreciatively and let herself drift in the scent before a knock at her door broke her repose. “Come in!” she called out behind her, “Though if you're here to take the tub back you can't have it.” She chuckled.

“Oh? If I had known a bath was making the rounds then I would certainly have been next.”

She turned abruptly sloshing water as she faced the door, hiding her body behind the high back of the tub. “Oh, Solas!” Her ears were growing red. Oh why did she have to blush around him, he'd seen her half naked before this was not too great a leap.

He chuckled “It seems I have caught you at a bad time, I will leave you to your bath.”

“Oh no! Don't go!” She sputtered, her hand slipping on the edge of the tub causing her to partially drown as she waved him back frantically with the other.

He had turned back around with a decidedly amused look on his face.

“Shut the door and get in here!”

He didn't need to be told twice apparently. She watched as he closed the door and practically sauntered over to his usual chair, turning it to face her as he sat down crossing one leg over the other, regarding her curiously.

She sank a little deeper below the water as she pressed herself close to the edge of the tub facing him; there were no bubbles to hide her from his gaze. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” It was a simple enough statement, yet her voice had come out rougher than she intended.

She wasn't sure if she had expected the heat in his gaze as he studied her. His voice a low timbre as he replied “Such a pleasure is not owed, it is given willingly, freely, and... _continually_.”

She couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped her as her breath hitched, or the heat his words sent straight to her core.

\---

He chuckled darkly at her startled silence. She looked as though she was about to retaliate, and in her current state he felt it would be incredibly unwise, that perhaps she would regret it. So he diverted her thoughts with a question. The unbidden earnestness in his voice had a sobering effect on her.

“What can you tell about me?”

\---

It was an odd question. She cocked her head wondering if he would elaborate, but then she remembered his question of her in the Hinterlands. Oh. So he wanted to know what she had learned from watching him? She gazed at him, probing the relaxed quality of his form as he returned her gaze with an air of assurance, a slight challenge. She snatched up her glass, drinking deeply before answering.

“You are more carefully guarded than most. Whether it’s due to your experiences with others, or the fact that you seem above everything I’m not sure. You look at the world as if it’s mundane, but perhaps that’s because the Fade holds a greater interest to you? Hmmmm.” She considered his carefully still expression. He gave nothing away as to how close she was so she continued. “Your grace belies your skill with magic, I’d guess you are, or were once proficient in other weapons. And… well. You’re an excellent liar, and you probably lie often.” That admission startled him, he moved to speak but she held up her hand, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her glass. “I’m sure you have reason, I’m not accusing you it’s just an observation… One that was an accident.” She smiled kindly, “When you told the others the lie of how we dispatched the demon that took over the wolf pack, well, it felt like the truth. Taken into account with your, at times, vague explanations, I’d guess you have something to hide. Something you don’t want anyone to know about.” A soft sigh escaped him, perhaps she had said too much. He looked vaguely thrown. “Don’t worry Solas. I have no idea what it is, I think, and although it’s piqued my curiosity, I won’t pry if you don’t wish me to.” 

She finished off her wine as he stared at her with an intent she couldn’t read. “But then, that’s unfair. I’ve been able to watch you for some time. Had I just met you, your grace, your self-assuredness would have tipped you off as a rogue, freelance, or maybe some sort of assassin guild. That is, if I hadn’t seen your staff. I would have assumed you had at least one dagger hidden on your person, perhaps poison. It’s unlikely I would have realized you were a mage until I got close, but getting close could get me killed, so had I been in exile and come across you I would have kept my distance, but watched you closely.” She gazed at him waiting, hoping she hadn’t offended too much. 

“Half-truths, lies only by omission.” His voice was calm, but there was an anxiety in the way his chest rose and fell quickly. “Is that all?”

She considered some more, “No, there’s more I think. There’s more to you, but I don’t quite know what it is yet. Although…” 

She slowly leaned back against the opposite edge of the tub almost baring herself in her entirety as she gazed at him with lips parted and eyes hooded. “There is a darker side to you.” She breathed languorously, slowly caressing her skin with her marked hand, sliding it down ever so slowly, the soft green light no doubt illuminating her features beneath the water.

“You try to restrain it.”

She had his undivided attention now. His breathing slowly became heavier as a decidedly heated look made its home in his features. “What if I can take it?” She withdrew her hand from the water as she slid forward again, crossing her arms on the edge in front of her. “What if I want you, secrets and all?” She lifted her chin slightly as she watched Solas, wondering if he would retreat, pounce, or dance to the side. 

She offered, “Care to _join_ me?”

He looked like he was fighting an immense battle behind those grey-blue eyes, his breathing still heavy. She closed her eyes imagining his audible exhalations on her neck, trailing down her stomach and lower. She let a small moan escape her lips at the thought of him curled over her. She was brought back to reality by the sound of his husky voice.

“You cannot know what you ask.” His expression was strained, vaguely feral, ravenous.

Perhaps she had pushed him too far too soon. She hummed, “Alright” she allowed, noticing the slight surprise on his face before she continued. “Assume I don't know what I ask” she replied, “Help me understand.”

She watched as he slowly uncrossed his legs, standing, noting his predatory gait as he closed the distance between them, he kneeled before her, his face now level with hers. She raised her head off her arms as he spoke in a rough voice almost a growl.

“You ask that I take you, that I claim your lips, your tongue.” She stilled as his hand caressed her cheek, his thumb running over her bottom lip. “You ask that I claim your body with mine”, he brought his forehead to hers as she closed her eyes, practically feeling his voice shake her core. “You ask for release, to be undone.” A small moan escaped her lips without reservation as she shared his breath before opening her eyes, her field of vision consumed by his. “You would receive far more than what you ask.” He pulled his face away, his warm hand lingering on her cheek as he stood. “I would have you beg for my touch,” he slowly withdrew his hand. “Do not try to chase me Revas unless you are prepared to be caught.”

He turned and hesitated, before returning to capture her chin in a grasp that was more firm than before. “It is unwise to toy with me Revas, consider this my last warning.” Releasing her once more he left, leaving her breathless and flustered. And though his words were laden with warning he hadn’t asked her to stop, neither her pursuit of his secrets, nor her pursuit of his touch. She wondered at what he could possibly be omitting, and why it was so important to keep secret. 

* * *

When she finally dropped off to sleep that evening she dreamt of the great wolf again.

She found him in the dark glade where their standoff had ended last time. He was sitting in the middle, once again a beacon of light, staring up at the sky, _waiting_.

She noticed she was a wolf again. Curious she thought, perhaps she was doing it unconsciously, perhaps he preferred her in this form. She watched silently from the shadows wondering what she should do, and whether or not he'd notice if she turned to go- when he spoke up.

**“My little wolf returns.”**

He was now gazing at her intently.

She met his many eyed gaze, letting go of all thoughts of leaving. She quietly padded into the clearing, sitting down near the edge, cocking her head at him.

The wolf regarded her before making a show of getting to his feet, leaning into a languid stretch before continuing **“Will you not run from me tonight?”** A feral gleam in his eyes, **“Perhaps I have a hunger that needs to be sated.”**

She stood slowly and watched as the great wolf licked his chops in anticipation. Then she took a step forward.

 **“And how do you know that coming willingly”** he stared pointedly at her, **“Is not worse than being caught?”**

She considered this thoughtfully. This was awfully familiar. Did Fen'Harel know her so intimately as to discern what transpired while she was awake? She briefly considered her keeper’s vision. She wasn’t afraid, whatever may come. She took another step forward.

The great wolf growled low in warning, his light shifting to a writhing darkness. Nevertheless she stepped towards him again.

His fur bristled, dark tendrils lashing out. **“Do you not fear me my little wolf?”** She ignored his posturing and continued to close the distance, despite his feral rage growing with each step.

She sat staunchly before him as he lunged towards her, growling and snapping just short of her snout, his roiling darkness threatening to engulf her. She stared at him resolutely, before slowly tilting her head up to lick him on the nose, and with that gesture she saw all the rage in him flee. She had the distinct feeling like she passed some sort of test.

He was shining brightly again when he licked her in return, the familiar gesture from snout to forehead as he lay down heavily, posed upright before her. Not unlike the many statues of him she'd seen in her youth.

She let out a huff of air as she stepped forward, rubbing against his neck, climbing into the hollow of his forepaws and curling up against his flank. She inhaled deeply, he smelled familiar… comforting, yet she couldn’t place it. He let out a great sigh as he laid his head over her protectively.

 **“You have nothing to fear from me, my clever little wolf.”** His voice rumbled through her pleasantly.

She finally spoke, a thought that had suddenly made too much sense escaping her mouth. “And you have nothing to fear from me, Fen'Harel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Redcliffe... for real. 
> 
> Anyone else absolutely adore the Elder Tree/Grand Oak from DAO? If I were clever I'd write a fic about him. OMG maybe a one-off with him as a companion to my warden, helping her end the blight. HAHAHA. GENIUS.
> 
> You should know that I'm writing this like Solas paints, whole cloth. I'm trying to keep inconsistencies to a minimum, yet it's a little trying when you're simultaneously writing the beginning, fluff, and the end of the world events (sequel). If I make an obvious misstep, please do let me know. 
> 
> ie. I'm crushed. I just wrote out _that_ Crestwood scene. So I'm gonna fluff it up here soon, for as long as I can. 
> 
> Your comments and Kudos genuinely warm my wretched solavellan heart.


	8. In Which Hushed Whispers Brings Her To Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whispered future. A void sunders two wolves. Endearments and understanding.
> 
> Together they cling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ~~Slightly~~ who am I kidding, _careening_ off the canon rails. I hope its somewhat believable.
> 
> AKA In which there was fluff.
> 
> 4/1 + 831 words

Solas was proud of her actions in his dream, that she had passed his test. He had attempted to deter her both as himself and as Fen’Harel. He knew it was reckless, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she really intended to pursue him or if she was just playing at chasing him. It seemed she had indeed been serious, she was getting bolder. It was an attractive quality. The entire trip back to Redcliffe whenever she caught him looking at her she would chance suggestive looks in his direction. It was a welcome distraction from the road. He found himself plucking at their connection after each glance she sent his way, wondering if he could unconsciously encourage more from her.

He had prepared for the dream once he reached his cabin, aware it would likely take her a while to fall asleep in the wake of leaving her so flustered. The impressions he’d received through their connection were certainly an indication of how much he had riled her up. In his preparedness he noted that she had indeed entered his dream, though whether she followed his call or wandered in of her own volition he still didn’t know. He had worried she would run from him, especially in his posturing. He was pleased that she hadn’t, truthfully he didn’t know what would have happened if she did.

It was her only response to him that gave him pause. How had she seen through him so astutely? Could she have sensed his fear, his apprehension? Had she known that his posturing was a test as much as a last ditch effort to dissuade her? He had no need to fear her, she said, did he dare hope to believe it? 

Along that vein, that she could read him so well… to know he wasn’t telling the whole truth, even if she didn’t know what it meant… it had thrown him. She was perhaps one slip away from putting all the pieces together. The thought was thrilling, yet he worried how she’d react, for her to find out she was bound to him. Would she think he was manipulating her, tricking her? Would she curse him like all her forsaken kin? 

He sighed placing his musings to the side to focus on the task ahead.

\---

He largely approved of the team she had settled on to enter Redcliffe with her. Bull would be an asset in the ‘negotiations’, not only playing up the factor of intimidation, but also the long standing war between the Imperium and the Qunari. It was a carefully chosen slight that the magister shouldn’t fail to notice. It was also a carefully picked advantage, with the exception of Dorian they all knew of her magic, and if things went bad it would be less of a disruption should she need to use it. She had informed them that it was not going to go well, to expect a fight before elaborating on the plan she had worked out with Leliana. All she had to do was look at Solas with that silent question, and he nodded. Not needing words to know she asked for him to join her. Pride swelling in his chest that she gave him the option to decline if their heated exchange had caused him to desire distance. He was more reserved about Dorian. He couldn't be sure this mage wasn't part of the trap ahead. So he resolved to watch him carefully as they split ways, the spymaster's scouts following the mage to the windmill as they headed down to the castle gate.

It was certainly a trap; Solas just hoped they had prepared enough to counter it.

\---

It was clear from the reception they received in the castle that they had planned to take Revas alone.

She stood her ground and gave them an ultimatum they couldn't refuse. He was even prouder when she invited Fiona as a guest of the talks on behalf of the Inquisition. But apparently the magister had thought out his trap well. Alexius had just finished prattling on about his greater purpose when Dorian finally showed up, Venatori dead or dying in his wake. Relief was the last thing he thought. Solas hadn't any time to react as Alexius began to cast, Dorian lashed out, and he and Revas vanished. Solas cried out her name in anguish scrambling for their connection and finding nothing but silence, a void ripping through his chest.

He was alone again.

* * *

Revas found herself standing in water next to Dorian in a cell. She had no time to consider anything else before they were set upon by Venatori, without thinking she grasped her daggers and charged them with her magic, casting fire to consume her blades even as she danced around their enemies, sinking her blades deep in their flesh. The fight ended as abruptly as it began, Dorian staring at her bewildered as he barely had time to cast a barrier over them.

“The dreaded Herald of Andraste, is a Mage?” He asked. “My my now that is not common knowledge.”

She sighed quenching the fire from her blades, “No, not common knowledge at all”, she conceded. She gestured with a blade, “Where are we? Last thing I remember we were in the castle hall.”

She listened as he mused working out how it must be time magic and they were simply a when not a where. She was no stranger to arcane knowledge but this was a stretch even for her. She was half listening when she felt a distinct tug at her senses, her forehead suddenly casting a red light about her features as Dorian stopped midsentence to stare at her.

“Well aren't we full of surprises, does it do that often? By that look on your face I guess not.”

She glanced at him as fear, and relief, and a strong urge to find the source of the tug washed over her. Something like hope swallowing her heart. These weren't her feelings. He was here, how was he here?! Her markings… they could only mean Fen’Harel. “We need to go. Dorian can you send us back?”

“Well yes, I think.” He was obviously still puzzled by her.

“Good enough.”

They took off down corridors, navigating stairs and fighting off small groups of Venatori. She used her magic without reservation. Now was not the time to hold back. She followed the tug carefully guiding them through pillars of red lyrium as she warned him not to touch the stuff. He seemed all too happy to oblige.

They found Fiona. She gaped at them, “You’re alive?” She called weakly, “How? I saw you disappear into the rift.” She was staring at the markings on her forehead. Revas nodded, “Fiona... what happened to you? Is that... red lyrium growing out of your body?" Dorian spoke up with "What year is it?” She would have laughed if not for the horrific sight in front of her, at least he was asking the important questions. She listened as Fiona recounted the events of the last year, that red lyrium was an infection that grew from the corpses of the afflicted and that the elder one sowed chaos after the events in Redcliffe. The Inquisition hadn't stood a chance.

They left her reluctantly with a promise that they would undo all of this.

Dorian voiced his relief that Alexius was in the castle, hopefully still with the amulet that had brought them here.

Revas pulled him aside outside the door where the tug was strongest. “Dorian, I don't know what's through that door but I need you to swear to me that if we make it back to our time you not breathe a word of it to _anyone_.” She added, “Nor anything about these markings” she gestured to her forehead, “or my magic.” She stared him down, “The Inquisition doesn't know. I will answer whatever questions I must to satisfy your curiosity, but they, Must. Not. Know.” She implored.

He nodded weakly under her gaze. “I swear it” he uttered.

With that she stepped into the room and heard a voice calling “Who's there?” That crushed her heart to hear it. “Solas,” She breathed.

He turned to her taking in the sight of her with a look of profound shock on his face. “You’re alive, we saw you die” he uttered in disbelief as she unlocked his cell. “I thought I felt you return, just now. I could barely dare to hope.”

She took in his face, the obvious corruption tinging it. It caused her wounded heart to ache all the more. “Solas you look… bad, is there anything I can do to help?”

He smiled sadly, “Its lyrium poisoning my little wolf, I do not have much longer.”

She froze at his words. No. This was the source of the tug, these feelings were his? He was... _He_ was Fen'Harel? She reached tentatively for him with a shaking hand.

He chuckled weakly. “Is that such a surprise? I have dreamed of you, my only hope to stave off the despair. But we are running out of time, can you reverse this?” He gestured about them.

Dorian piped up, “Yes with Alexius's amulet we should be able to return to the same point in time we left.”

The hope rising in Solas’ voice was painful to hear, “You could return and obviate the events of the last year, it may not be too late!”

She gave Solas a resolute look. “I _will_ fix this.”

“If there is any hope, any way to save them, my life is yours.” He vowed before filling them in on the events of the last year, anything he could think of to help her prevent this abominable future.

They tore off through the castle where they found Bull, Leliana, a handful of Venatori and a whole slew of demons. She and Dorian had gaped at the sky before rushing onwards, working their way through the castle as she stuffed anything of import, notes, diaries, weird lyrium keys into her pack. If she was going to stop this she needed all the information she could get her hands on. If anyone had any reservation about her open magic use or strange markings, it didn’t show.

They had returned to the hall to unlock the massive door when Solas pulled her aside. He whispered, “I will not know what transpired here, when you return. Back then I had been hoping you would figure me out on your own. If you wish to pursue me, after all this” he sighed, “Then be patient with me. I need your wisdom,” he caressed her face, “And I need your hope. But more importantly,” he kissed her brow, “I will need your help.”

She bit back a sob as she gazed into his eyes her voice wavering, “I will do whatever I can for you Solas.” She whispered back “You are mine, and I will protect you.” He pulled her into a quick embrace, and she never wanted him to let go.

Alexius didn't give up without a fight. But in the end it didn't make a difference against their combined rage and sorrow. Nevertheless they were running out of time. The remnants of the castle shook as a shriek rent the air. This elder one had come for them.

Solas and Bull turned to fortify the outer door when she called out to him in anguish, “Solas!” He turned around with a ghost of that warm smile on his face. His last words to her were stated with a fatalistic certainty, a loving kindness that punched right through her chest. “You will not come to harm while I still stand, vhenan.” And with that the doors closed.

Dorian began casting his spell and it was all too soon before the limp bodies of Solas and Bull were flung through the doors as demons surged inward. She choked back a sob as she fought the urge to rage at them, the strange feelings that she now knew were his, startlingly silent, the void of it tore at her chest as the light of her markings guttered and went out. Dorian completed the spell just as Leliana fell.

She turned on the spot and was standing before Alexius once more. All her rage and sorrow poured into a mighty punch that knocked the magister out cold before he could so much as utter a word. She spun around searching the room wildly where she spotted everyone present and back to normal. Her gaze lingered on the shock donning Solas' face as he got to his feet. She breathed a ragged sigh of relief and let the tears she was holding back stream silently down her face.

\---

He had wanted to go to her then. His gaze never left her as he assessed her for damage. Her body whole, but something horrible had clearly happened in the mere moments she was gone, while the connection was broken. Her face screwed up in pain, eyes shut tight against the tears spilling from them. Her emotions tinged the connection with an unfathomable grief. He was gutted; he had failed to protect her again, in some way.

The scouts gathered up Alexius as she composed herself and before long a retinue of soldiers marched into the hall preceding King Alistair and Queen Anora. The King berated Fiona as he revoked their welcome. Yet his little wolf, as broken as she was still stood tall, offering the mages a full alliance, freedoms, protection, a home, before offering a slightly mocking bow to the monarchs of Ferelden and leaving the hall without another word.

Fiona left to spread the news and prepare her people for the march to Haven.

He had just started to slip out to go find Revas when Dorian caught him and asked for a moment. Solas just now noticed the distraught look on the mage's face. He wondered what exactly had taken place.

Dorian began, “Look I wasn't supposed to say anything about what happened between you two, but she just watched you die for her.” He sighed shaking his head, “Maybe give her a moment? What we saw was, not good.” he finished dryly.

Solas acknowledged the request with a nod, “Where did you go?”

Dorian replied, “When did we go is the better question, and beyond that is something to ask her when she is ready.”

* * *

They were exhausted, she was exhausted. They camped in the foothills leading up into the mountains where Haven lay. She didn't want to push them further even though she dreaded stopping and having to examine what she had seen. Not that her wanting it did anything to keep it from sabotaging her thoughts. The future that loomed… that Solas and Bull, even Leliana had died for her… for her to return here. It wasn’t just some dream, some mistake. It had been _REAL_ for them. Her absence allowed it to happen unimpeded. It was disquieting. The tremble in her hands betrayed her false calm. How long had she been awake? It felt like days. In fact at this point it probably was. She felt like a part of her died along with Solas in Redcliffe.

She had somehow kept her composure long enough to give a brief report of what transpired to her companions and the scouts, and had handed over all the papers she had gathered before leaving Redcliffe. She trusted the scouts to make the appropriate copies before sending couriers to Haven. She kept the diaries and larger books, trusting that they’d be safer with her for the trip.

She had a hard time looking at Solas, but he seemed to understand her grief and let her have her space.

She had insisted on taking the first watch and not long after everyone was asleep Dorian stumbled out of a tent shivering. She wordlessly passed him her fire rune. She had donned her pelt again to keep her warm, to help her feel safe. It was a mostly empty gesture.

He thanked her and sat bleary eyed by the fire next to her. “Are you alright?” He ventured.

“No” she replied. “Are you?”

He sighed, “Marginally better than you I assume, in spite of this miserable damp cold. Then again I didn't just see my lover die for me.”

That took her aback and she blushed. “Well, we aren’t- weren't? lovers, not yet. Although it showed me we could be,” she mused. “I didn't know he felt so strongly. He called me Vhenan, his heart, there before the end. I..” She hugged the pelt closer around her, taking a steadying breath. “If you can't sleep” she offered “You must have questions.”

Dorian asked about her magic in hushed whispers and why she had to hide it. So she told him that she was a Dalish exile. That she had been hiding her magic out of necessity for years without a clan to protect her. He was fascinated by the technique of course, channeling magic through weapons without a staff. So she explained how she had to forge the daggers herself using staff components in the construction, then she went on about the magical wards that allowed magic to flow freely from the metal without damaging it. She even managed a chuckle as his stream of consciousness babbled away without her need for input when she let him examine one. He clearly had a mind for the arcane.

He finally came back around to her markings. “And what exactly was that all about”, he gestured at her face.

She sighed “That is less easy to explain. Those markings brand me for the Dread Wolf, the supposed trickster god of the elven pantheon,” she replied in a whisper “And I have to hide them for the same reason I hide my magic. Most often when an elf somewhat fluent in Dalish customs sees me with these I am cursed or run off, at worst someone may try to kill me because of them. Outside of the Free Marches almost no one knows their true meanings, yet they aren't of the standard pantheon and enough people know about the elves on the edge of the Tirashan to assume I am dangerous, or one of them. If the Inquisition or any of our supporters got into their minds I was actually the Herald of Fen'Harel? Or part of that bloodthirsty clan or others like it? I can't say that would be good for our reputation. The stories about savage Dalish elves are ridiculous enough already.”

He asked “Are you?”

She raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on her lips, “Am I some sort of savage, or the Wolf’s Herald?” She let the smirk settle into something more somber as she ran a hand down her face. “I honestly don't know whose Herald I am, but despite that, I definitely belong to the Dread Wolf,” she replied, looking up to meet his gaze, “Will you keep my secrets? At least for now?”

Dorian's eyes softened. “We all have secrets my dear and it would be my privilege to keep yours.”

She gave him a small smile, “Thank you Dorian. You can keep that rune. I'll buy another when we get back to Haven.”

He stood and lazily strode to his tent, calling over his shoulder “Oh you couldn't get this back if you tried, it's the price of my silence.” He turned and waggled his eyebrows at her before turning in for the night.

She gazed around camp hoping Bull’s snoring was genuine. Most of their conversation had been very quiet, however the part about her and Solas would have been loud enough to discern.

She sighed finally letting herself slip into thoughts about him, Fen'Harel in the flesh. That it explained a lot was an order of magnitude beyond an understatement. So that was what he was omitting? She was shocked at how much sense it made, and how unwittingly close to puzzling him out she had been. Drifting through her mental box of unanswered curiosities to avoid thinking of the rest she found many of them made sense in this new picture. His intimate knowledge of long lost things, the way the wolf seemed to know so much about her, how Solas could use their connection to find her, and the weird feelings she would get that weren't hers. She wondered how he got here and why now of all times to appear, there must be something bigger going on she decided. Her thoughts caught on their connection… that meant she was bound to him? OH. _He’d_ given her his protection… _**OH**_. Her pulse quickened as everything fell away in the face of one particular memory. _The vision_. Her keeper's vision. She fought to clamp down on the wild sentiments that line of thinking provoked. The prospect excited her as much as it calmed her. That vision had been an odd cornerstone of her life for many years. At times welcoming its implications, at others causing her to shy away from it all. What did that mean for them? For her? The rate at which her thoughts pulled up questions increased as she put all thoughts of the vision to the side. Did that mean all vallaslin bound elves to their creators? Did they have to be accepted like what he’d done to hers in their dream? Or was it an innate connection? She sighed, wondering what the Dalish would think of that, was that why he’d called it misguided? Was that something he’d tried to tell them only for them to shun him? She had to take a deep breath to slow her thoughts, her questions were multiplying unwisely. She couldn’t ask him, not yet.

She figured she couldn't tell him outright or she was sure he'd put up more walls, or leave, or… well who knows what he was capable of? Future Solas was right, if she could help him in some way, she would. He said he needed her wisdom and her hope... To what end? No, don’t think about ends. She bit her lip to quell the sob that threatened to form. She ran from that line of thinking to the only other thing she’d been afraid to look at closely. He'd called her _vhenan_. Did Solas- Fen’Harel? No, he was Solas to her. But did he feel that way about her now? Or, had his year spent in her absence tend his feelings? Had it taken losing her for him to realize what he felt? She knew there was an interest there, but did it run that deep? She sighed long, falling back to lay in the grass. A thousand stars winked at her knowingly and she cursed them. How lucky they were, so distant, so uncaring. This was too much for one person to carry, and in the face of that horrific future, she felt she had only scratched the surface of the potential horrors to come. 

She shut out the day, letting it all to rest for the night as she settled into her watch, after all, he was here and alive and he'd keep her safe and she'd keep him safe in return. She felt for the connection now that she knew it was there, humming a song softly to herself.

Several minutes later amid the snores streaming from Bull's tent she heard the slow measured breath of Dorian finally sleeping, that was when Solas crept out of his tent to join her.

\---

He was wide awake. His future self had called her _vhenan_. He felt less shocked than he thought he would. The endearment had occasionally, unwisely, graced his thoughts of late. His mind then raced as she and Dorian lowered their voices. How much had he himself revealed to her? She had sounded happy about it, perhaps despite whatever transpired between them in the future she was still willing to be his? Did he dare hope for that? Surely if she knew more than he’d divulged then she wouldn’t still care, the thought was disquieting… should he pursue her in such a manner while she was unaware? It was when he felt her probing the connection, calling him, perhaps without fully realizing what it was that he resolved to join her. Perhaps she’d tell him more about what had transpired. Although, if he had truly died in the future she would have felt the same void once it was cut off. He took a chance and joined her by the fire.

She sat up abruptly and stopped humming, “Oh, I hope I didn't wake you Solas.”

He inclined his head, “No, not at all, it was a… a difficult day and sleep eludes me. May I join you?”

“Of course, please.” She was trying to hide a blush. He hoped that was a good sign. “I'm afraid I lost my fire rune to Dorian. Apparently the south does not agree with him.” She chuckled lightly.

He smiled at her affectionately as he cast a slight spell for warmth around them, he settled down close to her, their shoulders almost touching. “Ooooh” she sighed in earnest, leaning closer to him. “That's what I miss about not using magic” she whispered. He chuckled softly, “My magic is always at your disposal Revas.” It was immediately apparent that it was the wrong thing to say. She looked like she had been impaled on his words as she reflexively clutched at her heart.

She slowly met his gaze, her eyes brimming with tears, “Solas, don't you dare leave me like that again.”

He froze, the grief in her voice tore at him. She continued, spilling more of the events that happened while she was gone. “You, you said that your life was mine if I could save them. And then you were _gone_. I couldn't protect you, like I said I would.” She sobbed quietly, trying to hide her grief, her weakness behind her hands.

He reached out to brush the tears from her face, faltered, cursing himself he gently gathered her up in his arms settling her in the hollow of his crossed legs, holding her tight as she poured out her anguish unhindered. He settled his cheek atop the head of her pelt as she buried her face in his chest, her hands fisting his tunic in her grief. It was possible she was as afraid of that void as he was.

His eyes drifted shut as he reveled in her warmth, and despaired at her grief. _She was real, she was his; she was safe in his grasp._ He spoke softly, “When Alexius cast his spell and you disappeared into the rift, I couldn’t feel you any longer. You were lost and I couldn’t find you.” He paused as she stifled a sob. “In those moments without you, I lost all hope.”

Her tears eventually ran their course as he hummed quietly, gently stroking her back. “I will not fail you again”, she vowed to his chest. His heart melting as her arms tentatively snaked around his back, holding him tight. He thought to himself _and I won't fail you, vhenan._ The mere thought of the endearment sending a vibrant warmth through him. It felt… right.

He let his little wolf curl up by his side by the fire to watch over her as she slept and finished out her watch.

He considered her thoughtfully as she slept, gently stroking her pelt, combing his fingers through her hair. How had she danced so gracefully past his defenses? Had he let her because she bore his marks? Was it her sense of curiosity, her eagerness to learn, the way she always respected his opinion? Was it her wide eyed interest as she moved through the world, weaving her fingers through its problems finding inventive solutions? Or was it because he thought she could save him, and turn his great misfortune into hope? Perhaps all of the above, after all without all of those pieces stitched into a whole she wouldn’t be his Revas. His freedom he mused, wondering what hand of fate had brought her to him. She who was his only connection to the past in multiple ways, her fleeting emotions that called to him over their connection the only bright light he had in the cold silent reality of the waking world.

If he could predict his future self as well as he hoped, he was certain of one thing, their mutual loss of Revas had been devastating. Despite the pang of having lost her, even momentarily, it had shown him things he would never have known. She was here, alive, and with him. It was like a mantra he had to keep repeating. He would not waste the time he'd been given.

Solas woke Bull as quietly as he could for the next watch. Despite the snores the creature was capable of he was a light sleeper. Solas signaled for quiet, indicating his little wolf still sleeping by the fire and the Qunari set about getting ready for his watch as quietly as he could.

Solas gathered Revas up in his arms gently, carrying her to his tent, aware that Bull had watched him with a knowing eye. Impropriety be damned he thought, he needed to know she was alive and wasn't going to disappear again. He set her down in his bedroll, tucking them both into his furs. All his focus on the carefree lines of her features, as if the day’s events had not marred her

And so he drifted off at last, listening to her slow measured breaths, one hand threaded through hers, giving her as much space as he could without losing her grasp.

\---

She awoke an hour or so before dawn, vaguely aware of being held, _closely_. She kept still as she eyed her surroundings. She didn't remember making it back to her tent last night. Last thing she remembered was falling asleep next to the fire with Solas gently stroking her pelt and her hair. She inhaled a deep breath, a slow smile dawning on her face, everything in here smelled of him, the notes of crisp elfroot, the musk of a wolf pelt, and a hint of wood smoke. She exulted in it, enveloped in his scent, smiling as the comprehension dawned on her, wondering if he realized that his form in her dreams smelled the same. The scent jogged a memory she thought was a dream, of him carrying her and tucking her in, a hand grasped around hers in the dark. She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she felt his arms tighten around her, his face nuzzling deeper into the back of her neck, his slow breaths tickling her skin. So this is what it felt like to be cherished, to not be alone. She hadn't been this close to anyone since leaving her clan; it was like the few occasions she ran with a wolf pack in the wilds, huddling together in a pile for warmth.

It was also good to know he was apparently a cuddler.

She loathed letting the moment end, staying here with him like this forever could have made up for the events that brought this moment on. But perhaps there was a chance in _their_ future for more moments like this. She had a feeling he hadn't meant to cling to her for dear life in the night, and was worried he'd react badly upon waking. She carefully and gradually began to extricate herself from his limbs but that only made him grasp tighter, so she settled for rolling to face him. His face was so carefree while he slept, like the ages he'd surely lived were gone. She watched him for longer than she should have. The soft snores that came from him were occasionally punctuated with indulgent groans. She reached up and stroked his jaw, calling his name softly.

“Mmmmm” he replied, more sleepy noises followed by something that could have been “Ma'Revas”.

“Solas” she called a little louder, placing her hand to rest on his temple. He opened his eyes attempting to focus before waking up more sharply and beginning to release her from his hold, “Revas! I… forgive me, I only wanted to keep an eye on you,” she sat up slightly, stilling his lips with her fingers; she leaned down and kissed his brow. “You do not need my forgiveness Solas, instead you have my thanks. I had forgotten what it felt like.” She smiled at him with a warmth she could not have mustered last night.

He sighed rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. “I had certainly not intended to grasp you so tightly”, he shook his head slightly a small grin creeping up his face.

She chuckled “If it's any consolation I remember you being the perfect gentleman when you tucked me in last night.”

He conceded, “I suppose you're not the only one who forgot what it felt like.”

They righted their sleep mussed clothing, Revas donned her pelt again and they gave each other a lingering look preparing to leave the tent. She cocked her head at him, “At least Varric isn't out there” she mused. That brought a breathy chuckle to his lips. “I fear we're doomed on that front as soon as we reach Haven.” The smile crinkling his eyes gave her the courage to face that eventuality. They stepped out of the tent together, and set about gathering up enough supplies for a decent cooked breakfast.

Bull sidled up from around a tree where the mounts were tied.

“Nice catch boss.” He lightly punched her shoulder sending her staggering.

She rolled her eyes at him in a huff. “It's not like that Bull.”

“Yeah, not yet maybe.” He shrugged. That guy was too observant by half she decided, unable to hide her grin and unable to deny it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages ago in my thought process I wasn’t going to have him reveal himself to her. I was going to play up this guilty love-ish triangle in Revas’ mind as she was pursued by both Solas and Fen’Harel, assuming them separate… but this (I think) has implications that are far more interesting.
> 
> I hope it came off as somewhat believable. I imagine Solas wasn’t in a good frame of mind when he felt their connection flare up again, not to mention the state of his corruption, and failure. The hope she represented was too much for him to pass up giving her that much to ensure she could help him... eventually, anything to prevent such a grand failure.
> 
> I almost split this in two, but then again I hate cliffhangers. Sooooo... you're welcome. :D


	9. In Which A Wolf Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgotten things speak volumes. Opinions cause pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another longish chapter (now 23% longer!), Mostly transitional, fluffy bits. Implications abound!
> 
> 4/2 + 1413 words

If she had thought word spread fast about the alternate future she saw it spread even faster about her and Solas. It was going to be at least a half a week before the advance force of rebel mages made the trek to Haven and perhaps three or more for the main group including the elderly and the children to arrive.

So she and Solas had a multitude of time to spend avoiding Varric. She figured Dorian wouldn't forfeit his fire rune, so that likely left Bull. And knowing him he'd probably been drunk and said something sly to the Chargers, which in turn somehow made it to Varric's sharp ears. If she knew anything about the Qunari, then she was certain he was trying to prod her and Solas together. As much as she looked forward to advancing her fledgling relationship with Solas, he had told her to be patient with himself... Ugh she really needed to stop thinking about time travel. Regardless, she didn’t want to push him into anything.

Aside from that she was glad the advisors didn't give her too hard a time about what she'd offered the mages. Her fuse had been short about the whole affair as is. Cullen wasn't pleased, and she had a feeling Cassandra wasn't either, but they didn't overrule her in light of the horrible future she described, the potential assassination of the empress, the demon army. She hated talking about it, but people needed to know. So after she had dropped off her remaining evidence of the future with Leliana, she was hardly surprised to see Varric catch up to her, notes in hand.

“Got a minute Trickster?” He asked, with a sly look on his face.

She sighed, a smile creeping up her face. “Suuuuure Varric, what can I help you with?”

And so she sat on the edge of the wall behind Leliana’s tent and recanted the story of the dark future she saw, again, leaving out a few bits of course. Varric dutifully took notes on the whole thing as she tried to describe as much as she could. He’d been understandably upset when she explained what she knew about red lyrium. She knew it was a sore spot for him. They moved on to trying to puzzle out this Elder one, it certainly seemed like he had his hand in far too much for how little they knew. Varric had just finished writing when he stated that he’d be after his contacts to find out as much as they could. She stretched, and made to move from her perch thinking she’d like to drop by the tavern when Varric spoke up.

“So... What's this about you and Chuckles sharing a tent?” he edged in, nonchalantly buffing his nails on his coat.

She gave Varric a pointed look as sharp as her daggers as she dropped from her perch to stand next to his fire.

“What? It would boost morale for people to hear about the happy couple.” he reasoned.

She sighed, “Varric you would owe me a fire rune for that story.”

“Trickster I would build you a house made out of fire runes for that story” he laughed, “So long as you don't mind Kirkwall.”

She snorted “Well seeing how I can't set foot in the Free Marches again I'll have to respectfully decline.” She stopped laughing when she saw the look on his face, like he had uncovered gold. “No, wait, I didn't mean that.”

“Oho now there's got to be a story behind that!”

“Shhh.. no, Varric...” She sighed, he was already writing it down. She scrubbed her face with her hands before slowly stepping further away from him as he was immersed in his writing. She turned and bolted around the back of the tavern, slinking behind the cabins until she came to rest behind Solas' letting out a frustrated groan.

The shuttered window opened over her head, she looked up as Solas peeked out and looked down, a smile growing on his face.

“Need an escape route Revas?” He offered his hand.

She took it, “Oh, gladly.” A light laugh fell from her lips as he helped her in the window.

She told Solas about Varric’s fishing for information and her slip up, and he chuckled as she slipped into her fully animated speech again. She had a small grin on her face when she finished, having nearly paced a hole in his floor, catching the smile on Solas's face as he had watched from his seat.

“Assuming Varric wasn’t elaborating on his network of spies in the Free Marches,” Solas ventured, “I'd presume it's only a matter of time, if anyone even remembers.” She sank down in the other chair, her head tipped over the back as her legs sprawled out before her.

“Should I be worried?” She peeked out at him from under her hand over her face.

“Not before the breach is closed I should hope. After that is anyone's guess,” he supplied. “What will you do if you're no longer welcome in the Inquisition?”

She sighed. “This is the pretty much the longest I've called a place home, such that it is.” She sat up leaning against an elbow on the table. “If I can't stay... Well I'd have to go close the rest of the rifts. I have no doubt they'd carry on investigating the Divine, the demon army, and the assassination of the Empress. But I don't think I could leave that well enough alone. I'd have to find a way to make sure the Inquisition’s efforts were all successful. Her expression fell as the full weight of everything she was expected to avert settled on her shoulders once more. It was too early in the day to carry the weight of the world. "Too much is riding on all this.” She sighed heavily. “This elder one though...” She trailed off.

“Indeed.” Solas stated, “You've interfered with his plans twice now, perhaps that is the more pressing matter. It's wise to assume you have his undivided attention now.”

“That worries me more than I'd like to admit” she ceded. “Perhaps hiding my magic was wise. Dorian seemed to know a fair bit about me, but not that. It might be an advantage that saves my life,” she gazed at Solas, attempting not to feel the crushing weight in her chest, “Or the life of another” she added quietly.

He took up her free hand threading his fingers with hers, humming slightly. “Perhaps you are right Revas. I am curious though, how did he react to your magic, your markings?”

She considered the question staring off at the wall, recollecting Dorian’s reaction. “The magic bit he was absolutely fascinated about. Asked me tons of technical questions I couldn't even begin to decipher that evening in the foothills. He said it was a technique similar to something he called an Arcane Warrior? Or maybe it was Knight Enchanter… he was almost rambling at that point. He told me the circle sanctioned ones are taught to summon blades of their will, where I found a way to channel my magic through the blades themselves.”

Solas nodded thoughtfully, leveling her with a decidedly impressed look, “What you describe is an Arcane Warrior, It is an ancient technique the elves called Dirth’ena Enasalin. It would be fascinating to see you use it. How did you come by the skill?”

Her brows furrowed as she tried to recall how she began using her magic in such a way. “Well, at the time I thought I had made it up,” she confessed. “It wasn’t long after my exile began; they had broken my staff and burned the remnants when I left, so I was weaponless for a time. I had considered crafting my own but it would have immediately marked me as a mage. A mage without a clan… it wouldn’t have been good. Not to mention, I lacked the proper tools to make one, as well as the resources.” She sighed. “I was a bit lost, I had managed to craft a half way decent bow, but I had no path, no heading. I was still trying to figure out how to live on my own. It was then that I received my first dream… a human child had been kidnapped.” She looked up to meet Solas’ gaze, he was hanging on her every word it seemed. “It was a ransom, they were trying to extort money out of a poor blacksmith in a village outside Markham. I managed to kill the bandits, but then there was the child… I couldn’t leave the poor boy in the middle of the woods. He was afraid of me at first, but after I told him I was gonna take him home he became the brightest little light. I was glad he’d told me the rough direction to head in because before long he was falling asleep on his feet,” she chuckled. “I had to carry him the rest of the way. I finally found the place just before dawn. I was terrified, I wanted to just leave the boy there and have his father none the wiser. The boy had woken though and insisted I meet his dad.”

Solas had an unreadable look on his face as he idly stroked her hand with his fingers, perhaps she was rambling. “Well anyway the boy’s father was relieved his son had been returned to him, though he was wary of me, he knew enough of the Dalish to know I was one, and that they usually weren’t friendly. He’d asked my intent, and I told him I just wanted the boy to be free. I had turned to leave at that point when he asked me to wait, he had most of the ransom he was going to pay the bandits. I had to refuse. I couldn’t assume the place of the bandits and take the money. The stubborn man wouldn’t take no for an answer and didn’t want to be indebted to me, so I asked him if I could use his forge as payment, if he wasn’t too busy. He was as surprised as I was when he agreed.”

She laughed remembering the look on the man’s face. “So over the next few weeks he taught me how to use the forge in his spare time, and I came up with a plan to craft a pair of daggers that could channel my magic as I learned. It made sense at the time, hiding stave components in the blades, everyone had blades. The perfect place to hide and I was already proficient with them. I managed to complete them to my specifications on my first try, in secret I crafted a small knife for the boy… I’m… not sure why.” She frowned slightly at the memory, “I left them that night, leaving a note as thanks with the knife.” She shook the memory from her head, “That was how I began, I wasn’t entirely sure it was possible to cast magic in such a way, but it didn’t stop me. It took me a while to devise wards that would protect the blades, and I continue to improve on my theories… The magic I use to enhance myself in battle is much easier in comparison.”

She frowned again… she had a feeling she was forgetting something, like that wasn’t the whole story. Solas finally spoke, breaking her away from her thoughts. “You are truly remarkable, Revas.” He sounded almost in awe as his eyes roamed her face.

She blushed under the scrutiny, “You seem to know quite a bit about the technique… I would like to hone the skill if I'm ever outed. Do you think you could instruct me?”

He gave her hand a light squeeze as a smile crinkled his eyes “I would be happy to help you train if the time comes.”

\---

He pulled her hand, gently coaxing her to stand before maneuvering her onto his lap; she eased her back to his chest as he loosely wrapped his arms about her.

He’d debated the move for quite some time as he listened to her story. She was utterly fascinating to him, his pride for her settling as warmly in his chest as the feeling of her relaxing against him. She opened up to him like she did to no other. He marveled at the picture she helped him paint of her, it grew more beautiful by each word that fell from her lips.

She sighed, relaxing into his hold, laying her head back on his shoulder. He fought the urge to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. He couldn’t decide what it was about the spot that fascinated him so.

She continued the second part of his initial question. “As far as the markings, I don't think he knew what to think. I told him vaguely how they came to be, who they were for and what people generally do when they find out and he definitely grasped the gravity of my situation, but I'm not sure he believed me. He didn't shun me either but he's Andrastian. I wouldn't expect him to understand.”

“Indifference is hardly the worst reaction Revas,” he reasoned. In fact, indifference was probably one of the best reactions he had garnered in his own efforts. The thought intrigued him. That he could potentially watch the world’s reaction to her to inform how they might react to him. The thought filled him with a vibrant lightness. It was dangerously like hope. If they could accept her, perhaps they would accept him. 

“True” she replied, wrapping her arms tighter around his. “Do you have anywhere to be today?”

“I do not. I presume you'd like to stay here and hide from your adoring subjects for a while?” He lost his battle as he nuzzled his face into her neck, inhaling deeply.

She snorted. “Adoring subjects, yes I would love to, I've got... Super important magical studies to ask my chief fade expert about.” She rolled her eyes.

“You jest but there is much I would love to share with you.” He replied. She hummed, “Over a game of chess?” She must have spied the board laying forgotten in the corner.

“I would like that.” He smiled against her neck, holding her close.

\---

So they hid the day away, playing game after game, as Revas thought up every question she could and listened intently to his answers. He told her of memories, and magic, things long forgotten in the waking world. He was surprised at the directness of her questioning, wondering what had changed to provoke such thoughts. He welcomed her interest nonetheless. She never won a match against him on the board but she never gave up, and her genuine interest in his knowledge was refreshing. Her questions continued over dinner and wine, never ceasing to find his stories fascinating. The chess game long abandoned. As the shadows lengthened they wondered what would be more scandalous, her emerging from his cabin so late, or her staying the night.

In the end he didn't want her to leave and she didn't want to go. Everything felt like it was going to be alright when they were together. So they fell asleep holding onto one another, leaving the world to worry about itself for once, at least until the morning.

* * *

Her stay in his cabin didn’t go unnoticed.

Whispers followed her throughout Haven. Rumors of the Herald and the Apostate, although one turn of phrase had caught her attention, someone had called them _‘the Wolf and the Apostate’_. It brought a wide grin to her face, oh if they only knew just how _appropriate_ that phrase was, it could refer to either of them.

She spent the next few days training outside Haven, away from prying eyes as much as she could, yet within reach, should some need arise. At times she would sit quietly, lulled by the wind weaving through the trees as her thoughts darkened in spite of the peace she could have found there. Redcliffe weighed heavily on her thoughts. All too easily the potential future consumed her, remaking her piece by piece into a creature of apprehension, worry. 

Solas often visited her when he took breaks from his research, which strangely enough seemed to coincide with her spikes in anxiety, telling her about magical theories and stances to maximize her efforts. She didn't dare practice her magic openly but she went through the movements all the same. Memorizing his words, laden with wisdom she considered each thought carefully. He had already taught her so much. Answering her questions freely, if vaguely. She'd only smile to herself thinking about his necessary deception. He was similar to her in that respect, although hiding her magic rather paled in comparison to his secret. Either way, she regarded his knowledge with a higher level of significance. She knew that his wisdom was an intimate familiarity with the subject, despite his efforts to make it seem the opposite.

Cullen had once asked her if she could give pointers to the new recruits, she felt he was returning the favor all those nights ago when he couldn't sleep. It gave her something to do to keep her mind off of what was to come, and what had already come to pass. She gave him a grateful nod, and set to work showing them how to properly wield a bow. By lunchtime nearly all of them had made significant progress. Not to mention the morale boost it seemed to give them all as she walked among them correcting stances. It was disquieting, how they looked to her, yet she could no longer deny the importance of what she could do after being faced with what her absence had wrought. It seemed Solas had been right after all. For better or worse, she was a key to their salvation.

Dorian also came along to see her, much to her surprise. He was still cold, this poor man. She had him follow her to the blacksmith where she commissioned him a white silk, lightly lined, fennec fur hood and cloak. She took notes on his rantings about quaint Ferelden fashion and had him approve the final designs. He pulled her into a crushing hug once it was finished. That man must _really_ hate the cold she had mused, prying herself loose. Or perhaps, she considered sadly, it had been the only kindness he’d been faced with since he’d wandered the south. She’d already heard the rumors being tossed around about the man. They were not entirely nice, or favorable. Perhaps she could help him change that. She set about working the fire rune into the clasp as he watched. The whole thing should radiate heat when she finished.

She had him put it on. He made a noise of approval and quipped something about there being hope for the south yet. He tagged along to her secluded training ground to ensure he could fight in it and not have his movement hindered. She watched as he spun; a whirl of fire and lightning. Apparently satisfied they headed back towards Haven for dinner. Just outside the gate she caught a look on his face that made her curious.

“Something on your mind, Dorian?”

“Well, yes. Does it not bother you that I'm from Tevinter? Everyone else has made their feelings known.”

Concern crossed her face, “Have they done anything to hurt you?”

“No, nothing I can't handle”, he was too dismissive. She wasn't reassured.

She sighed, “I'll speak with Josephine about that later” she grumbled. She looked back to his expectant gaze, “No, it does not bother me where you hail from Dorian. Does it bother you that I'm an exile and a savage?”

“No, why would it?”

She smiled, “Precisely. Dorian, regardless of your countrymen, you have not wronged me. You stood by my side in a nightmarish future, and there's no way people could come out of that and not be friends.”

“Friends, what a novel idea, and you're not concerned I'll blackmail you to keep your secrets to myself?”

“Dorian, I'm singlehandedly protecting your delicate constitution from our _harsh southern climes_.” She prodded him in the ribs, bandying his own succinct description of Ferelden back at him. “Rat me out if you _dare_ ,” her laugh undermining the serious glare she shot his way.

“My how the standard of friendship has changed, mutual blackmail is it?” A smirk was rising on his face as he twisted the end of his moustache. “Very well my dear Herald, I accept.”

“ _Ugh_ call me Revas, please.”

A lyrically spiced laugh tumbled from him, she wondered if all Tevinter men laughed in such a manner or if it was uniquely Dorian. It was a surprisingly telling little thing, at once both unctuous and sincere. She wondered if her new friend was as deeply antithetical as his mirth. “So it's true! Our Herald hates her title.” She assumed the guise of a grumbling storm as they trudged off to dinner. 

\---

She had stopped by the tavern for a drink when she was almost run through by Sera. She was decidedly not happy with her about all the mages. It hurt a little to hear her friend make her concerns known, despite their validity. She worried if the elf-not-an-elf ever found out she was a mage it would permanently ruin their friendship. It thoroughly ruined the buoyant mood she had been in.

She was perhaps more than a little drunk when she finally walked out into the night, stopping by her cabin and donning her armor. She snuck out the gate, walking slowly to her spot on the cliffs, she didn’t want company tonight. When she finally reached her perch she sunk down to the ground next to the pile of wood she’d gathered last time, not bothering to light a fire that could be seen for miles. She sat in silence for a long time just staring at her oldest friends, the boundlessly sympathetic sky, trying to sort out what she was doing here, her thoughts an endless circle of doubts and fears. Would they harm her if they found out? Would they throw her in chains? Would they blame her for seeking out the mages instead of the templars? She was a danger to them, their efforts, and they to her. Too many people already knew about her magic, Bull was right; some would care _a lot_ more than others. She had grown far too complacent… too accustomed to being around people. She had begun to look forward to their interactions with her, she enjoyed their diverse personalities. She had come to care for many of them, cared about what they wanted, about their hopes and dreams. She had commiserated with Cassandra about her brother, her upbringing, Varric and his problems with Kirkwall and Anders’ rebellion. She had even crossed a new bridge with Vivienne, the Iron Lady having complemented her… or at least she was _reasonably_ certain it was a complement. 

It felt like _belonging_ , it felt like the dark wish in her heart that bubbled up from time to time, long since faded and careworn. Like an old sheet of parchment begging to be tossed to the flame. That her clan hadn’t disowned her, despite all she had been through, she’d never really gotten over being exiled for something so small- something so uncertain. To have seen her parents stand by and allow it to happen without complaint. She wished she could forget it. It was a hurt that ran too deep to forgive, too deep to forget. 

How could she let this happen? How could she let them get so close? They would discover her secrets and tear her to pieces. Everything she had grown attached to would fall down around her. Or worse, they’d all abandon her and she’d be alone _again_. She tried resolutely not to think of Solas, she couldn't ask him to go into exile with her should the worst happen. She was afraid he’d decline the offer. He was the truly free one.

The stars turned their backs, indifferently fled from her view as tears welled up in her eyes. She felt trapped here, trapped by their expectations, their worship. She just wanted to help fix things… not to be revered. Trapped by her secrets… secrets she was beginning to suspect she didn’t even know the half of. Her muddled memory suddenly scared her, she couldn’t remember the conclave… but worse she couldn’t remember how she had come to know her style of battle magic. She found she couldn’t even remember learning to conceal her markings. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she remember? The holes in her memory seemed to follow her steps in exile, she knew why she decided to go to the conclave, she remembered getting there… but who told her about it? How did she even know it was going to happen?!

And what truly happened at the conclave to destroy it so thoroughly? How had she survived alone out of all others? How had she fallen out of the fade itself? 

In her drunkenness she hadn’t realized she’d been pouring her hurts and despair into the connection between her and Solas. She’d been hunched over sobbing into the snow when soft steps approaching caught her attention. She looked up as she hastily wiped her face to see him standing there, a look of concern on his face. She stifled a fresh sob, and he wordlessly descended on her, wrapping her up in his arms and his magic. The comfort she found in him anchored her to the present. They sat in silence for a time as his warmth, his presence strengthened her resolve. She tentatively put words to her pain.

\---

He’d felt her grief, and he immediately sought her through their connection. He’d dashed off through the dark, wrapping it about him like a mantle, blind to watchful eyes. Something had hurt her, he had to find her. He knew where she was, atop the cliff where she usually took watch. Yet as he climbed its heights, her proximity offered him a greater insight. He realized her pain was internal, not a wound. Her fears, her sorrow… they tore at him as he crested the rise. Taking in the sight of her hastily concealing her grief, all it took was a quiet sob for him to close the distance. Taking her up in his arms as if his mere presence could drive back what scared her. _He would keep her safe,_ his small flame in the void. He would be the barrier that kept the force of winds from snuffing out her brilliance. He cast a spell for warmth around them, she was freezing.

“They’re going to hate me when they find out Solas. I don’t want to be worshipped. And… there are things… things I should remember but I don’t.”

He considered her fears thoughtfully, some he suspected, yet there were also more unanswered questions in her admission. He couldn’t banish them, but perhaps he could put her mind at ease. “I will not let them harm you Revas, and though what might happen is uncertain, you won’t find answers by berating yourself,” he stated kindly. He gently nudged her chin, coaxing her to meet his gaze. The look on her face, the admiration she held there for him- the dawn of it on her face chasing away the remnants of grief, the slight part of her lips. He forced himself to abandon that line of thought, pulling her close instead as he threw a few pieces of wood on the remains of their last campfire, conjuring up a flame to light it. He wouldn’t take advantage of her in this state, even a kiss, something so innocent he was sure he’d twist into his desire to consume her. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder what she’d taste like… if her passions were as fierce as her fury. He felt her sigh contentedly against him as he tried to quiet his mind. They had time, he could wait.

* * *

Though it was growing late, many in Haven were still awake. Some happened to notice the small flare of a fire being lit on the cliff above the lake. Among those who noticed was a dwarf who wrote in great detail the silhouette of the lovers entwined in their repose, clinging to each other in spite of the forces that would rip them apart. He made a note to revise that last. Hoping against logic and his own experience, that for their sakes if nothing else that their story would have a happy ending.

His thoughts drifted to the woman, not the crossbow. A ragged sigh lost among the crackle of his campfire. Someone deserved a happy ending. The world was sorely lacking in those.

* * *

On the third day she was out training on the frozen lake, practicing with her daggers, the added effort of not slipping and falling straining her muscles to a pleasant burn. She was oblivious to the idle crowd of recruits that was watching her from shore. Her mind was fully entrenched with her imagined enemies, slashing at their shades, twisting away from imagined blows. The dark shifting formless shade of the elder one, bandits, templars, apostates, vague foes that had crossed her path and fallen years past struck out at her. She had just pulled off a particularly difficult flip by taking off at a run, slamming her daggers into the ice and using the momentum to fling herself into the air wrenching her daggers free as she spun, launching herself several feet away to land in a crouch both daggers slashing down dangerously, biting deep in the ice.

Applause erupted on the shore that startled her into the present. She stood, freeing her daggers, a clear _“Nice one boss!”_ bellowed over it all. She spun her daggers between her fingers as she turned to face them and gave an embellished, if hesitant, sweeping bow to her audience.

At least her accidental performance had given them some ideas, before long half of Cullen's more advanced recruits and Bull’s chargers, Bull included were using the lake for training. She danced among them as they practiced, evading arcing swords, elbows, and the occasional flying recruit.

Just shy of noon the gate horn blew in Haven and they all paused to look to the pass. The collective sigh of relief as powerful as any breeze drifted over them. The mages had arrived. Tomorrow they would seal the breach.

She sighed and sheathed her daggers, trotting out to meet them.

\---

The sun was well and truly setting by the time the mages were settled and fed, left to prepare for their contribution to the assault on the breach.

She had finally been able to change out of her armor into something more comfortable. Having grabbed dinner for her and Solas she snuck along amid the cabins as she tried to avoid prying eyes. His door opened as she quickly crossed the open space in front of the apothecary, dashing inside as Solas closed the door behind her. She held up her spoils- a grin on her face as she eyed the amused expression on his.

She moved to his table to lay everything out for them. Pouring glasses of wine as she remarked, “Well I think my grabbing dinner for two was just as telling as if someone had seen me heading this way,” she chuckled lightly. 

He moved to her, embracing her from behind, inhaling deeply.

She sank into his hold, wondering aloud- “Do I really smell that good?”

His reply muffled against her neck, each syllable spelled out against her skin sending a slight shiver down her spine. “Intoxicating.”

“Mmmm,” she sighed “As much as I hate to stop you our dinner is getting cold.”

He chuckled reluctantly releasing her, “That would be a tragedy.” A slight glint of humor in his eyes. “I would not wish to incur your ire, standing between you and a decent meal.” The admission provoked an easy laugh from her. How this man knew her so well in such a short time she wasn’t sure, but it warmed her inside and out. After all, he knew much of her, and yet he hadn’t been scared away. She never thought to be here, with anyone like him. Perhaps not all of her luck had been bad.

They ate sedately and traded more questions and answers. Solas enquired about how the mages were settling in before going over what to expect tomorrow. She asked him what would happen to her, breathing a sigh of relief when he told her that it was unlikely to be a fatal exercise. That he affirmed his intent to keep her from harm, to the best of his ability was reassuring. Though, he warned her that channeling that much power would likely be an overwhelming experience. She’d laughed at that, each day that passed continually set the bar for what could be considered _‘overwhelming’_ higher.

Before long they were full and lazy and a little too tipsy for serious topics.

Revas had stretched out on her side on top of her pelt before Solas' fire. The pelt she rarely went anywhere without these days, it was slowly becoming part of the legend that seemed to be growing about her. A familiar token of safety, yet an undeniable part of the armor she donned to become who she needed to be to make the decisions they frequently handed her. A person she was slowly becoming more and more familiar with each time she reached deep down for them. She was still nursing a glass of wine as she felt Solas stretch out behind her throwing a fur of his own over them. She sighed leaning into his embrace. They lay comfortably close for a time. Their silence laden with soft sentiments to keep an unspoken fear- that somehow tomorrow would go badly- at bay. Her breathing slowed as she felt desire tinge the connection between them. Soon after she felt Solas readjust himself behind her, putting some distance between his hips and hers. Her breath hitched against her will. 

His voice was low, “I apologize Revas. I would not take advantage of you in this state.” His effort to restrain himself apparent in his slowly measured yet still uneven breaths, “I would do this properly.”

“Do what properly?” she whispered, the faint sentiments in their connection making her breathless.

“To court you,” he managed.

She swallowed the rest of her wine, setting the glass off to the side turning towards him, a brilliant smile curving her lips. “You have nothing to apologize for Solas. I would not push you to do anything you weren't ready for.” She paused, trying to consider her words carefully. “And though I don’t know exactly what courting entails, I think I would like that.”

He returned her smile, his features cloaked in a thinly veiled desire. Even muted, it was an expression that thrilled her, to have him look at her as if she was wanted, cherished, desired. It was a beautiful respite in her mind, banishing the horrors of her life with ease. She committed that look to memory before she spoke up. “Turn over,” she offered, and he obliged. “Mmmmm” she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck as she carefully wrapped her arms around him, wary not to rile him up further. “I see the appeal of this… Better?”

He let out a long contented sigh, “Yes. I didn’t enjoy the thought of asking you to leave.”

“Mmmm” she nuzzled closer holding him tight, reveling in his warmth until the quiet sounds of his breathing gently lulled her, his scent the last thing on her mind as she drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pretty much love this chapter now. So glad I decided to come back and edit this.
> 
> So... the next two chapters I'll be posting at the same time, probably tomorrow. You might want to skip the next chapter and move on to the one after it. There will be new tags accompanying it, as well as a warning in the notes...
> 
> Hah, it's one of the first chapters I fully fleshed out, and here I am asking you to skip it.  
> You'll see.


	10. In Which The Wolves Forged A Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hunt ensues. A wolf falls, submits. A bond is forged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance. this should be the only instance in which... _this_ happens though I may allude to instances like this in the future. The rest of the smut in this fic will be more... normal. Or at least as normal as magic fade sex with elves gets. 
> 
> So… short chapter because it’s entirely dark smut, and you may want to skip it, also off the canon rails again, don’t worry I’ll rein it back in a bit next chapter.
> 
> WAIT DON’T GET EXCITED. NO REALLY. Don’t blindly forge on ahead, seriously NSFW and if you don’t fancy the idea of reading about the tags at the top ie wolf sex, knotting, etc- you can totally skip my shame and I’ll sfw-ishly sum up the one plot point in the notes of the next chapter… that will be up soon. Really almost made this a one-off, but it is fic canon and I did tag this as smut I wouldn’t tell my friends about. Maybe I just need better friends? 
> 
> That said, enjoy. Or don’t, just you know… judge me quietly? Or not, I don't own you. *shrug* 
> 
> Inspired by the lovely [Forever and a Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2889272/chapters/6449570)  
> by vesselandpestle (amusewithaview) So if this, uh, _tickles_ your fancy, then you’ll probably love that.
> 
> 4/2 + 605 words

Revas trotted through the dim forest paying little mind to her surroundings. The towering trees stroking upwards to caress the sky mere inconveniences as she navigated around the massive trunks, searching for her quarry. She had been tracking something familiar, a maddening scent on the breeze, elfroot and smoke, the scent of another wolf, male if her nose was any judge. Hale, strong, a fine mate. Her tongue lolled as she surveyed the area. Catching the scent on the wind again she trotted off towards it. It had to be close, this frustrating scent that set her very nerves on fire, calling up a desperate longing in her. A magnetic pull enveloped her with no discernable end. She stilled suddenly as she heard the sound of something moving towards her, the pull materialized a tangible endpoint as the ground quaked beneath her paws.

The forest abruptly descended into a deeper darkness, the wan light of the moon barely illuminating enough for her eyes to adjust. A slight crunch of leaves, a rolling exhalation, she snapped around for the source of the sound, coming up empty. She could _feel_ something out there, watching, waiting, yet the darkness resisted all her efforts to penetrate it. She bristled slightly with her annoyance. How dare the dusk hide her prey from her?

**“You shouldn't be here my little wolf.”**

She snapped around looking for the voice when it dawned on her, one of these dreams she realized, warily. Seconds later reality engulfed her senses like a crashing wave, _Oh shit_. She'd stumbled into Fen'Harel's domain, Solas' domain. The realization of the precarious state they'd fallen asleep in disquieting her.

 **“Run. Little wolf.”** A long unrestrained groan rumbled forth from his chest, and she could hear the languorous stretch in the strain of his voice. **“Run for me, Ma Da’fen.”**

A powerful yet foreign wave of arousal hit her, warm tendrils of yearning snaking into her nerves, the sheer authority of it attempting to root her to the spot, pulling a whine from her throat. She staggered sideways trying to keep her wits about her against the onslaught of shaking pleasure. As the wave finally abated, leaving her weakened, she met Fen’Harel’s many eyed gaze, the depth of the lust reflected there, painfully obvious. Fenedhis, he was going to take her.

She blindly leapt away in an instant, tearing off through the forest, quickened heartbeats later feeling a discernable tug in their connection following not far behind her. She knew then his hesitation was purposeful, he’d given her a head start to make his inevitable victory all the more satisfying. He would be able to find her no matter where she went. Shit, she wasn't going to get out of it this time. She knew it wouldn't be far off, her keeper's vision. Ever since she first met the wolf she knew it was only a matter of time before it caught up with her and she _knew_ Solas was much less reserved here, more feral. He didn't know this was her fate, and he would kick himself for it upon waking.

She had to try, so she ran despite the desire jolting through her core, making her unsteady on her legs. She scrambled over rocks and logs, weaving around immutable trees, desperately trying to find an end to the dream, some way to escape. Soon it became evident the dream was running her in circles; she met the same obstacles repeatedly no matter how she turned.

She eventually stumbled in her rising panic and crashed down an embankment and tumbled out into the small glade from before. She shakily got to her feet, thankful nothing was hurt. She was about to resume her flight when she spied the dark wolf circling her on silent paws. He had let her hear him before on purpose it seemed. She froze in place, watching the great wolf eye her hungrily. She weighed her options as another wave of arousal engulfed her. She moaned wantonly, her legs shaking in earnest as the wolf before her licked his teeth. It seemed that this maddening arousal was rolling off the beast like its roiling dark form. It briefly made her think this must be what it’s like to be in heat, to be driven senseless by lust. The thought simultaneously thrilled and terrified her; she was going to be at his mercy soon. He was sniffing the air, nose high, circling closer, inhaling deeply. And then he spoke as if he'd guessed her mind.

He growled low, **“I can smell your heat, my little wolf, you are prepared for me.”**

She let out a whimper as his voice caressed her, pulling at strings deep within her. She knew he was right, she could smell her own arousal through the heady scent of his. The scent of him only heightening her need, this had been what she was unconsciously tracking. She had sought the call of his scent, and he had come to claim her. She knew if she ran she wouldn’t make it far and he would take her regardless, that only left... She slowly let her front legs give out from under her, stretching into a low bow, bending to him, arching her back her tail fanning back and forth. The growing heat buzzing through her veins making her feel weak, it was unlike anything she had ever felt before but she knew- she was ready for him. Wolves had tried before, people had tried before but she always rebuffed them, danced away, melting into the shadows, yet here she was inviting him, Fen'Harel, Solas, her… _Vhenan_.

He was on her in seconds.

She felt his teeth close about her nape as he stood over her. His great form snug over hers, the sudden contact with his intangibly dark presence sent pleasure tearing through her core, an aching anticipation. He wasted no time lining himself up to her entrance as he pressed another wave of arousal into her. She whimpered and squirmed in his hold as she felt the pointed tip of his considerable thickness press up against her. A pleading whine escaped her throat as he growled. His hips thrust forward, parting her, stretching her to accommodate him, driving forward until he was fully seated within her. She gasped, panting, feeling stretched and full with his length deep inside her.

She let out a long low howl as he drew out and thrust hard against her, his responding growl sending waves of pleasure as it shook through her, she whined feeling his teeth sink into her neck. The smell of her blood in the air, the taste of it encouraging him to set a punishing pace, drawing out almost fully before slamming back into her, over and over. He pinned her in place so effectively she could do nothing but accept all he had to give. Her world was nothing but his teeth and his length thrusting relentlessly into her, sensory blind to all else as the writhing tendrils of his form sank into her, igniting a heightened pleasure she had not thought possible. She felt herself stretching over the growing bulge at the base of his length. She swallowed thickly around a moaning howl; she knew what was coming next.

She wasn't prepared for the next wave of induced pleasure that hit her in time with his next thrust as he snarled.

**“Come for me little wolf. _Garas ma da’fen. Garas ma._ ”**

The combined effort of the powerful intent in his words, the friction of his knot too slight to hold her- popping loose, sent her over the edge, the onslaught of her release burning through her as she let out a long howl, her insides clenching over his thickness. She instinctively thrust back against him as he moved to meet her again, their combined movements forcing his growing knot past her entrance, intensifying her release as it wedged deeper. She let out a constant stream of whimpers and moans as she felt his knot grow ever larger far too large now to come free from the tight cage of her sex, locking him inside her. He was panting rapidly now, his teeth clenching tighter as he rocked against her, working his knot deeper. His rhythmic thrusts devolved into pure instinctive plunges chaotic as his need drove through her, his touch conveying all he felt, he was so close.

“Fen' _Harel_ …” she moaned, helplessly overwhelmed as his increasingly feral efforts laid her bare before him.

His teeth released her as he came, throwing his head back in a howl as he pulsed inside her, the warmth of his abundant seed filling her, the sensation rolling her over the edge again as she clenched around him continuously. The flood of it engulfing her, knotted as she was it had nowhere to go, his gift, his seed would not spill from her grasping heat. His length locked deep in her core was the only thing holding her up as she slowly came down. She could barely think by the time his rocking thrusts slowed as his pulses were drawn out. He huffed at the back of her neck, nuzzling her. He licked her face affectionately before gently seizing her nape again. She let out a weak whine as the movement pulled at his knot within her. He gently tipped them on their sides, to lie on the ground for the duration of their joining, releasing her neck as he curled himself around her protectively. She was vaguely aware that he was the dark wolf no more, but the shining bright wolf that seemed to signify a calmer demeanor. She felt his words before she heard them, a strange echo in her blood translating the old unfamiliar speech punctuated by the few warm words she knew.

 _“ **Nuvenin-ma banal'sa.** You will want for no other,”_ his voice rumbled through her. _“ **Ne dar'ma da'fen.** You are mine little wolf,”_ he licked her again, _“ **La Ir'na.** And I am yours.”_

His words sent a shiver through her as his length pulsed again deep within her. There was a power in those words she decided, yet the compulsion to repeat them back was entirely her own as she focused her will, pouring her intent into her voice, _“Ir na Fen'Harel”_ , she agreed, _“La ne dar’ma.”_ A feeling of great contentment settled over her as she felt their spoken vow awaken the connection within her. She felt the words he wished her to speak with him, time slowed to a graceful irreverence as they spoke in unison, **_Vir sa'elgar. Uth Aval'var dar'sa. Mir vhenan naeth in ne._** The resonance of their words echoed through her in pulses. "We are one spirit. Long may our journey be one. My heart is safe in you," gossamer fine strings of the sentiment winding through the beat of their hearts. Suddenly she was feeling him much more strongly, the beat of his heart thunderous in her chest, small strings pulled taut with each pulse. She was slightly worried, had he just wrenched open their connection? What did that mean? Had he truly bonded her? His intermittent throbbing within her made it hard to think as his continued pleasure hazed her awareness.

**“Hush little wolf. Do not worry. No harm will come to you. I am here.”**

She huffed, reluctantly letting her thoughts go as he curled around her tighter. If he now had her in bond as surely as the knot that still locked her to him all she could do was see where it went from here.

She lay content to drift in semi consciousness, only anchored by Fen’Harel, surrounded by him curled over and around her. Her world was nothing but warmth, bright fur, the slow intake of breath in his chest gently rocking her.

The small movements agitated his knot still within her. She wondered vaguely if it would ever subside or if this would be the reality of her dreams of him from now on. Despite the obvious absurdity of it all she found there were worse things to dream of. She had often dreamed of that horrible future she'd seen in Redcliffe. The thought of being without Solas, the thought of that void where constant little emotions and pulls at her consciousness that she had become so accustomed to, severed empty a yawning silence in its wake. She shuddered at the thought, the movement jolting his length within her, causing a heat to rise deep in her core again.

An unbidden whine escaped her throat, as she fidgeted against him, the small movements arousing her quicker than she thought possible.

 **“Again my little wolf? My aren't you insatiable,”** his voice reverberating through her only winding her up further.

She panted, begging, “Fen'Harel, _please_.” Her paws struggled for purchase so she could rub against him, finding none as she lay on her side tangled in his limbs.

She felt him shift, leaning up and over her, his forepaws braced on either side of where she lay still joined to him. He shifted his hind leg that lay over her as he nosed her throat, the slight shift only making her desperate for more.

**“Hush my little wolf, let me take care of you.”**

His head swiveled to where they were bound, his nose nudging her leg to open the way for him. He paused, his breath hot on her, he inhaled deeply.

His voice rumbling low, **“The scent of you is intoxicating. My little wolf, center of my desire.”**

His tongue lapped the apex of their joining and she howled, losing herself in the sweet roughness of his tongue as he steadily worked over her heat.

Through their wide open connection she felt his desire redouble, sending her mindless with her need. Whimpering as he slowly rocked within her, the minute shifting of his knot quickly building that maddening pressure in her core. He was savoring this, slowly working her to completion. A shuddering high shook her form as she teetered on the edge of ecstasy. A high pitched whine left her, begging him for more as she struggled to move against him.

He flexed his tongue to press against the peak of her filled entrance, his growl sending vibrations to the bundle of nerves that held back the flood, thrusting hard against her. She broke instantaneously on the waves of pleasure coursing through her, keening as her body shuddered around his knot once more. Fen'harel let loose a long low groan as her muscles sought to draw him in deeper, sucking and pulling at his length. He gave her one last lingering lick before he unfurled, nuzzling up against her as another twitching throb within her heralded that he still had more to give her.

She lay there limply, muscles twitching, utterly spent. She rubbed her forehead with one hand, trying to force her pleasure addled mind into coherence. She opened her eyes to look up at the great wolf pinning her. His expression was suddenly one of great intensity. He was looking at her like Solas often did. She held his gaze, trying to figure out what felt off about the moment, her brows furrowing.

Understanding hit her like a bolt of lightning. She was an elf again. Full blown panic shot through her as she struggled against the wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just post ~~1,900~~ 2,500 words about wolf sex? Yes. Yes I did.
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> Is this the first smut scene I’ve written? 
> 
> …Maybe.
> 
> Do I wish I had a legit sex word thesaurus so that I could expand my vocabulary instead of looking it up on the internet where it only gives me phrases like "Turgid Man-hammer"? 
> 
> Yes, yes indeed.
> 
> AHAHAHAHAHA this brings a whole new meaning to tying the knot. Get it? Tying the... oh creators ignore me, I'm embarrassing. 
> 
> *clears throat nervously*  
> Pretend you don’t know this about me.


	11. In Which A Harsh Reality Awaited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wolves wake. A shattered peace. Anguish and hope. 
> 
> A Vision fulfilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _“ **Nuvenin-ma banal'sa.** You will want for no other,”_ his voice rumbled through her. _“ **Ne dar'ma da'fen.** You are mine little wolf,”_ he licked her again, _“ **La Ir'na.** And I am yours.”_
> 
> There was a power in those words she decided, yet the compulsion to repeat them back was entirely her own as she focused her will, pouring her intent into her voice, “Ir na Fen'Harel”, she agreed, “La ne dar’ma.” A feeling of great contentment settled over her as she felt their spoken vow awaken the connection within her. She felt the words he wished her to speak with him, time slowed to a graceful irreverence as they spoke in unison, **_Vir sa'elgar. Uth Aval'var dar'sa. Mir vhenan naeth in ne._** The resonance of their words echoed through her in pulses. "We are one spirit. Long may our journey be one. My heart is safe in you," gossamer fine strings of the sentiment winding through the beat of their hearts. Suddenly she was feeling him much more strongly, the beat of his heart thunderous in her chest, small strings pulled taut with each pulse. She was slightly worried, had he just wrenched open their connection? What did that mean? Had he truly bonded her?
> 
> “Hush little wolf. Do not worry. No harm will come to you. I am here.” 
> 
> She huffed, reluctantly letting her thoughts go as he curled around her tighter. If he now had her in bond as surely as his hold- all she could do was see where it went from here.
> 
> 4/5 + 1,605 words (now with 37% more angst!)

Badly, that's where it went from there.

She awoke abruptly- still scrambling out the panic that followed her from the dream, inadvertently almost ending up in the fire in her alarm. Some part more awake than the rest of her sensing the danger, changing direction as she scrambled to her feet. Backing into his table, grasping it in a last ditch bid to stay upright, her legs were quaking in their threat to send her to the floor. She was panting slowly coming to her senses, still feeling the ghost of his touch over, and _in_ her. She was drenched in sweat and feeling- in what would be considered in other circumstances- pleasantly weak from her dream, but there was something else, fear? Shame? A hint of failure was budding in her heart. A profound hurt overshadowed it all drawing more of her focus to her surroundings. She then noticed that Solas had mirrored her flight, he was standing on the opposite side of the room, pale and equally drenched. His features were twisted in a pained grimace. A soft “Oh…” fell from her lips as she realized those were _his_ emotions, they were so strongly felt it was almost as if they were hers. He- he had actually bonded himself to her, actually completed their connection. He must have realized in the end what he’d done, she cursed herself wondering if she had thought to assume her elven form sooner if it would have spared him, with her luck it would have likely not changed a thing and just made it all the more awkward. She noticed his mortified gaze on her again as she felt a prickle at the back of her neck. She tentatively reached one hand up to investigate, gasping as it came back covered in blood. She reflexively cast a spell to heal it in her panic, but the wound barely stitched together in her haste, it would leave a scar. She stood there frozen, staring in disbelief at her hand. How had the wound from his teeth followed her? The dream had felt real, that much was true, but to have implications in waking?

The shame and pain in their bond intensified. It left her feeling even weaker than before as she let herself collapse into one of his chairs. She’d ruined whatever it was they had, that was simply it, she should have told him everything. She sat there in shock for a moment, running her bloodied hand over the freshly healed wound, feeling the shape of it. Anguish flooding their bond from his end snapped her out of it. He was destroying himself over this and it had to stop.

“Solas, I’m sorry. I should have told you this would happen as soon as I found out who you were. I should have told you what happened in the vision.”

That stopped him cold, even his emotions froze before quickly resuming, a flurry of them flitted through her before she could grasp them. Though she knew she had his undivided attention.

She bowed her head, “The vision my keeper had…” She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Carefully considering her wording, one wrong word would make everything infinitely worse. She let calm radiate to him from her end of their connection. “Well, the vision foretold this.” She stated simply, hoping it would be enough. “Once I started dreaming of Fen’Harel I became worried, I knew the completion of her vision wouldn’t be far off.”

He had stopped fretting, but he was still very pale as he stared- not so much at her, but through her.

“I was concerned. I didn’t know at the time but I was afraid I would hurt you. I didn’t know that being pursued by you while I was awake and Fen’Harel in my dreams was the same thing. After I had found out, I was so relieved it was you that I hadn’t thought how it would make you feel.” She swallowed the anxiety rising in her throat, willing her voice not to crack. "I... I understand if you don't want to pursue ...this."

His voice was pained as he uttered a single word, “How?”

She guessed at which _‘how’_ that could be, settling on the biggest unasked question. “You called me your little wolf, in that horrible future, but you’d given me enough pieces that I would have puzzled it out eventually. It wasn’t such a big leap, in fact- it was far easier to believe in you than that nightmarish future.” She waited for it to all sink in, carefully watching him. He shook his head, as if his thoughts were pacing in his mind, causing the involuntary movement. She tried not to fidget, tried not to let her sentiments impose on him as he debated with himself. Trying not to worry about what would come next, that he might end whatever it was they had. Though truthfully, she probably deserved it. She felt like she’d mislead him, lain with him under false pretenses. She had sought _him_ out in the fade, even if she hadn’t realized it at first, there was no denying it. 

He’d finally sat down on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, with no indication of what he decided when she spoke up tentatively breaking the leaden silence. “Solas, Do you want me to leave?” His gaze snapped up to her, as if he’d already forgotten she was there. Yet, no answer was forthcoming. The pain he was in almost overwhelmed her, the guilt he carried threatened to drag her down as well, yet there was something else as he finally spoke- _resignation_. “It is I who should leave. What do I touch that I do not ruin?”

She figured the question was rhetorical, yet she felt that he meant more than leaving the cabin. Before she knew it she was rising to her feet in her anger, the sudden force of it banishing her weakness. “You would give up that easily?!” He was taken aback at her sudden outburst. “I don’t even mean me, but _this_. I don’t know why you’re _really_ here but it must be pretty damn important Solas. Am I right?”

“You are.” His curt reply tinged in the vestiges of her own anger wasn’t terribly reassuring. “Then don’t start running now on my account.” Her anger began to wane and she didn’t know what to do with herself as she began to pace, her thoughts tumbling over one another like an angry boiling pot. She should let him be, yet she was worried he would up and leave. What could she say to convince him to stay? How could she make this up to him? On her next round across his floor, she noticed he’d been watching her closely, an undecipherable look on his face. Yet his heart bared all, he was deeply uncertain. She let out a long sigh. She would leave him be, and let him make his own choices. 

“I do not wish to leave you hurting like this Solas.”

“I would deserve it,” he stated painfully.

“You would not” she replied. “You have not wronged me, if anything this is all entirely my fault. I am the one who deserves this hurt.”

He shook his head once more, it was apparent that he wasn’t listening to her, “What I did to you-” She promptly cut him off, “Has not changed how I feel about you.” Punctuating her words by pouring out all the fondness she had in her heart for him into their new bond.

He looked overwhelmed and she quickly let it subside, worried she’d pushed him too far. He closed his eyes to the grief threatening to spill down his face.

She spoke softly, “I promised I would help you, that I would protect you. It doesn’t matter that I said the words a year from now, I mean it just as much to you, in this very moment. You are mine Solas- if you would still have me. I accept you, in your entirety. I would not have spoken the words, completed the bond if I didn’t.” It had been the right thing to say as he looked up to meet her gaze. Not looking through her but at her. It felt like a small victory.

She felt the small bubble of hope bloom across their bond before she saw it on his face. She smiled kindly, “I knew this would happen eventually, but I honestly did not think it would be this soon. The timing is absolutely abysmal of course…” he let out a weak chuckle, and she continued with more confidence “But I am whole and undamaged. Well, minus the love bite that would put all others to shame,” she chided. “Perhaps normality isn't for us, perhaps we must do everything backwards, but I would be honored if you still wished to court me,” she slowly bowed before him. Judging by the careful silence as much as what their bond betrayed, she had expected a far worse answer. 

“I would like some time to think about it,” he stated- carefully neutral. She met his gaze again as she straightened up. “Take all the time that you need, Solas.”

She knew she shouldn’t have hoped for anything less than careful consideration, yet she couldn't stop the sharp pang in her chest at his words. Nonetheless she would stay true to hers. He would have an eternity if he asked for it. At least he didn’t sound like he was leaving tonight. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. _At least_ she wouldn’t have to face the breach without him. 

She quietly gathered her things, shaking out her pelt before wrapping it about her shoulders. Pausing at the sound of the winds howling outside, she sighed, _great_ a blizzard. Apparently she had been just as preoccupied with what took place as he was, and now even the weather was conspiring against her. At least it would afford her shelter from prying eyes and cover her tracks- she didn’t need her shame to become tomorrow’s gossip. She took a deep breath, not daring to look back as she cracked open his door and slipped out shutting it tight behind her.

As sweat drenched as she was she froze _instantly_ , running as quickly as she could against the wind and blowing snow, damning that she hadn't bought another fire rune yet. As her cabin slowly materialized out of the white winds she saw the massive snow drift blocking her door. Uttering a few choice curses under her breath she trudged through it to her window, relieved to see it hadn’t been swallowed by snow yet. She set to work picking the catch with shaking hands, it was difficult but she managed.

She squeezed through the small window and rolled to the floor jamming the window shut again before doing a sweep of the cabin, making sure she was alone. She summoned the tiniest bit of mana to light her fireplace and a few candles; she set to work filling her water basin, heating it with another slight spell.

She peeled off the simple clothes she had been wearing, the grey tunic was probably ruined she thought, shivering in the still too cold air. Perhaps she could salvage it with a dark dye to hide the blood stains. She paused, listening to the gale rattling the windows to her cabin, hoping the structure would stand up to the winds. She placed the clothes aside as she set about washing her body of his scent and sweat and her blood that had soaked through everything, replacing it with the calming coconut scent that made her relax. Erasing what had happened to keep her from dwelling on it. She didn’t need to antagonize Solas accidentally through their now wide open connection by reveling in their mixed scent gracing her skin, nor by conveying the guilt that such a pleasure would likely induce. 

As she washed she thought about what had happened as objectively as she could. She wondered what the bond entailed. She only knew of the Dalish bonding customs, but this was so much more. The magic she felt in his words, the magic she mimicked to imbue her own words. She was worried she had made a mistake, had he not wanted her to bond with him? Was that why he was so upset? Or was he just upset with himself for biding his time while they were awake, only to turn around and take her in dreams? She found herself wondering if this was what it was like to bond with a god or whatever he truly was, or if all ancient elves bonded in such ways. She hoped he wouldn’t forsake her… she had so many new questions. She chuckled slightly at the thought; if she was worried about questions then she really had nothing to worry about. If she truly thought he would set her loose then she’d have to be much more concerned, or at least so she hoped. 

She sighed, thinking about her keeper’s vision. Her future was now uncertain. That vision had filled her horizon for a decade now, the only certainty in the shifting current of her life. After the shock had worn off in the wake of her swift exile she began to cling to it, at times even looking forward to it. As she wandered she often felt she had no purpose, yet if the Dread Wolf had a purpose for her... She never would have imagined it would truly be to be his lover. She had half expected it to be some sort of metaphor. The Dalish were, after all, always going on about the Dread Wolf taking things, she wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been added to his surely massive collection of stolen goods. She stifled her mirth as soon as it began, no doubt her amusement wouldn’t help Solas deal with this either. She gently sought him out hoping her pull would go unnoticed. He was… conflicted to say the least. Not so much pain but a sense of being lost… and then her intrusion was discovered, a quiet reassurance met her mental caress and she withdrew. Cursing herself for the impulse.

She carefully washed her hair- thawing it out and binding it in a loose bundle off to one side. She stood and retrieved her hand mirror, facing away from the mirror by the door that had shown up one day, probably Josephine’s attempt to encourage her to actually brush her hair instead of running about with it in a wild mess. She angled her hands so she could see the damage on her neck.

Sighing deeply in resignation, even in the dim light it was unmistakably a wolf bite. Two pairs of fangs clear in the rough skin of the gouge, lingering pink indents on either side of her spine where the flesh didn’t knit together neatly. “Good luck explaining that one Revas” she chided herself. Marked in yet another way, no wonder Solas was so upset with himself she thought. He was supposed to keep her safe, and yet he’d injured her in his feral passion. She hoped giving him time would help, and not just let him put up more walls around himself.

She got a vague sense of ‘nothing’ and a slight panic rose in her as she felt for the connection once again, but the emotions were fuzzy, muted- not gone. “Well, he's either asleep or he somehow shut me out” she figured. This would take a lot to get used to. She would have loved to have him explain what this was, what to expect. But any hope of that was futile, she would just have to wait and hope she didn’t make an obvious misstep. She settled down before the fire and began to dry her hair, carefully weaving small braids starting at her temples that branched out like a net that would keep her hair mostly contained for the trek to seal the breach. Josephine would be so proud of her. The thought warmed her unexpectedly. Perhaps everything would be alright. When she finished she checked her work in the mirror, impressed with the overall effect, like twin trees branching from her eyes casting a net of branches over her loose locks. She dressed in her Dalish armor, carefully wrapping a matching red scarf about her neck before reverently placing her pelt on her shoulders. She sat back down before the fire, now started in earnest. Carefully avoiding particularly strong feelings she meditated the rest of the night, focusing on preparing to close the breach. All else could wait she decided.

* * *

Solas stared at the door long after she had left, she had slipped out and he’d realized once the door snapped shut against the howling winds that he had reached out for her. If she had turned around he would have told her to stay, at least until she was dry, if not for the night. But she resolutely kept to her word. There was no guarantee even if he told her to stay, that she would have, after all she was Revas, Freedom; she might've left anyways. Not that he could blame her. Yet in spite of everything he had done he wouldn't have made her head out into the freezing storm soaking wet. He followed her connection holding his breath as he felt a brief anger, annoyance, not releasing it until he felt her relief. She must have made it to her cabin.

He was a mess. He had her blood on him, he had awoken to the taste of it, and he wondered how much more of it he would take before it was all over. That alone should have decided it for him, to put as much distance between them as he could, to forsake their bond, set her loose regardless of the consequences. Yet, despite the fact he felt he deserved that, his damnable heart argued that she didn’t. Her own people had forsaken her and branded her for _him_ ; if he did the same she would truly have no one. It would break her, or she would become him. Bitter and full of hurt. He had hopelessly dashed his eventual plans of releasing her. Hadn’t he? Surely she would likely not welcome the prospect of dissolving their bond- more to the matter, did _he_? He wasn’t sure anymore. It hadn’t taken their shared dream for him to know he desired her deeply. He wanted to claim her, keep her safe. Could he even hope to keep her safe from himself though? This was startlingly new territory for him. He’d had dalliances and relationships both wise and reckless… yet to bond himself to someone. He’d never- and never expected to. Especially not after all he’d done to the world. How could he deserve the hope, the happiness she offered? How could she still offer it after what he’d done?

How did she not hate him, the very thought of him? She’d been living with the weight of that vision for a decade, knowing what would happen. Even knowing who he was since she disappeared in Redcliffe, and he had no idea she had learned of him. She hadn’t treated him any differently, hadn’t worshipped him, hadn’t forsaken him… She had been _relieved_ it was him…He had fully expected her to figure it out eventually, yet he had not expected acceptance, with not so much as a hitch in her stride. She had put it kindly, undoubtedly to spare him. What she said implied that her keeper’s vision had been of him taking her as Fen’Harel, of him choosing her as his bondmate. That she had been condemned for an act of love, just because of who he was… it was disquieting. He wondered if the vision was where her keeper had seen the markings, self-fulfilling prophecy? Fate? Could he even dare to hope for such things? Should he? How had the vision predicted this would happen? Was he nothing more than a puppet being pulled by the strings of fate? Was what they had real? He sighed deeply, reality was merely perception, the first lesson of the fade. If he doubted that now, it would only make it worse. 

Perhaps they had seen the markings somewhere else? Yet even as he thought it, he knew it couldn’t be true. Those markings could only be discerned from the fade. Yet, what spirit knew of them, what memory? What had shown her keeper that vision, and to what end?

No answers came to him, only Revas could hope to enlighten him, and he was worried he’d damaged that relationship forever. Although, perhaps _not_. He felt her tentatively reach for him, the barest caress. He palmed his face. In his self-crimination he hadn’t even explained any of this to her. Nothing of what to expect, how things would be different for them- yet she was doing remarkably well to keep herself from imposing on him. He reached for her, a reassurance to sooth the slight tremor of worry he felt. She withdrew and it took effort not to follow her thread. 

He was still resolutely ashamed of himself. It had been what should have been an incredible memory, a serious turning point in their relationship. He’d been thrilled to finally taste her, to feel her under him, to spill himself deep in her clenching heat, to hear her call his name in the throes of her release. It had been incredibly intimate. Such things were always easier for him in the fade, things there were more like they should be- _he_ was more like he should be, yet it inevitably made him more impulsive. He had been aware enough of his actions in the dream to mean every word, every action, but he hadn't been aware enough to grasp the many reasons why he shouldn't take her. Until just before he woke that is. He'd bonded himself to her, completed the connection, and she said the words back to him, _willingly_. She had run at first, was it because he told her to, or had she realized what she walked into? Was she trying to spare him from his actions? In the end instead of fighting him she gave herself willingly, submitted to him. Had she known he would've taken her no matter what? The thought sickened him. Even then she had been protecting him, even from himself. His little wolf, his great protector- To his knowledge only one had ever bonded themselves to their own sentinel, a sworn protector. Though he wasn’t sure he appreciated being held in such company. After all, Anaris hadn’t been well known for his ability to hear the word ‘No’. Perhaps it was a more fitting comparison than he liked, there had been whispers suggesting _that_ bond hadn’t exactly been consensual. 

He sighed, shaking the thought loose, turning his thoughts back to the woman who puzzled him so. How could he deserve her? Even look her in the eye? Her anger at him suggesting he should leave, abandon his purpose for being here, had surprised him. And then even afterwards she composed her own emotions to spare him, to give him hope. Her prowess, her quick thinking genuinely impressed him, he had chosen wisely. It was a fact that was as lighthearted as it was uneasy- any true match for him was likely to be a troublemaker. Surely she must curse her luck that she ended up with him. It seemed a poor exchange of vows from his standpoint.

Yet… she knew who he was, and she still wanted him to court her.

It was almost absurd, this woman of his who dreamed of drinking tea with wolves, a woman he’d bonded in dreams- skipping all the necessary steps of courtship, asking him to court her anyways. It brought a small smile to his face despite his attempts to quell it. He had a feeling she would be up all night. So he cleaned himself up and crawled into his bed. If he was going to protect her he needed to be awake for it.

He didn't deserve her, but he was certainly going to try.

\---

The snow had subsided by morning, though dark burdened clouds hung heavy on the horizon. It was a massive effort to dig out Haven. The mages were eager to help out and as such they made short work of it. By the time Solas had appeared outside of his cabin around mid-morning most of the work had been done. Though, everyone had expected the Herald to be in there with him.

“Has no one checked in on her?” the annoyance rising in his voice as he looked around at the runners that had shown up looking for her, he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration at their blank looks. Apparently no one had bothered to dig out her cabin yet. He dashed down the steps and rounded the corner by the gates to see her cabin and the towering snow drift plastered up the front. How did she manage to get in there? he wondered. He drew on his mana and blasted the whole mountain of snow to the side with a burst of force magic, finding the door frozen but unlocked.

He wrenched it open, rushing in half expecting to find her hurt or frozen only to stop short at the sight of Revas sprawled out in front of a roaring fireplace dressed head to toe for battle...

Snoring, loudly.

He chuckled, shaking his head. He had chosen wisely indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH that internal struggle. 
> 
> Next chapter, sealing the breach and the flight from Haven.  
> I'll likely take a break for a day or two to elaborate on more of my chapters.  
> ...and hide from my shame.  
> Should be an update sometime this weekend.


	12. In Which Freedom Survived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tear sewn shut. A force attacks. Freedom is revealed to all. 
> 
> A wolf calls out. A woman answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda rushed through this one.(sorta fixed it) I'm always in a rush to leave Haven, and I certainly didn't think I'd take this many chapters to do it. Then again this is kind of backstory to a backstory.
> 
> 4/6 + 1,005 words

Her markings had flashed red through her illusion when she sealed the breach. She had been enveloped in the vibrant green torrent of energy that issued forth when her mark connected to the rift. She sincerely hoped the spectacle drowned out the small flash of red, and that no one would notice. She was also certain that if any one of those mages had stopped to think about how their magic had flowed through hers as she harnessed their power then they would have immediately known she was a mage. However, everyone seemed pleasantly distracted by their victory. Maybe they would just attribute it to the mark on her hand, the easy excuse. 

Solas was right, it had been an unbelievably overwhelming amount of power to harness. For the moments she held onto it, directing it through the mark on her hand- it was like she was in _everything_ , like she was whole. As she bridged the distance, the link between their world and the fade she briefly felt like everything snapped into focus before unleashing the power, letting it leave her to stitch the veil shut. In its absence she felt sundered from herself, like something was missing. It had almost caused her focus to falter. She hadn't realized she was only a shade of what she should be. It had been an unsettling sentiment. If the concern she felt in their bond was any indication, then it wasn’t just her imagination- he must have felt it in her too. 

She was exhausted from the effort, but felt like a huge weight was lifted from her shoulders. One impossible thing down, three more to go, perhaps it would get easier.

Solas caught her eye, a silent question hanging there as she waved off the praise from the others. She sent him a small smile, a reassuring sentiment, and then she could feel his pride and relief. She felt comforted in the fact he returned a slight smile of his own. Letting the small emotions between them buoy her all the way on the long trek back down the mountain as the dark clouds of another storm were slowly drawn into the area in the absence of the turbulent breach.

* * *

Revas didn't feel like joining in the revelry that had encompassed all of Haven in spite of the steadily falling snow. She watched them enjoy their victory, while she felt only uncertainty for her future. Where did she go from here? How does one stop a demon army and an assassination? They needed more information to work with. A slight tug at her senses informed her that Solas was close. That hadn’t been something she had expected, intimate knowledge of his proximity. She knew Solas wasn't far from her, watching her. She realized her thoughts had probably called him to seek her out, and she cursed herself for the weakness. She wasn’t doing a very good job at giving him space and though he didn't close the distance she felt comfort in the slight pulse of his heart in the threads that bound them. 

Cassandra sauntered up to her. Congratulating her on her victory, Revas had just countered that it wasn't just her; they were all responsible for getting here. She didn’t want the praise. The Seeker had just smiled warmly at her musing that there was much yet to do- when the horn at the gates sounded before an alarm was taken up among the soldiers. A sense of dread crept up on her as they traded concerned looks. She looked to Solas, his concern mirroring theirs. Dorian stumbled up to where Revas stood and she was suddenly thankful she hadn’t decided to celebrate with a bottle of wine and a quiet dark corner, “What's going on?” He shouted over the noise. 

“I don't know,” she sighed. “We'd better find out.” 

The four of them raced to the gates where Cullen informed them of a report from a scout stating there was a hostile force marching over the bulk of the mountain, under no banner. 

A burst of fire that rocked the gates startled them into silence. A wavering voiced called “I can't come in unless you open!”

Revas ran and unbarred the gate in time to see a young man slit the throat of a Venatori soldier. The young man who called himself Cole cryptically explained that the Elder One had come for his mages; that it was red templars who made up the bulk of his forces. _Shit_ , she thought, Leliana had mentioned to her in passing that the templars had vanished from Therinfal, could this be them? What exactly was a red templar? This was not going to be pretty; they had no way out of here. She told Cullen to round up every able body fighter he could, mages included to protect Haven. She briefly collected herself before turning to Dorian, Cassandra and Solas, waiting expectantly for her orders. She had nothing to say, no powerful words; she simply nodded before unsheathing her daggers and running out of the gates to fortify the trebuchets. 

\---

It was a nasty hard fought battle, the red templars were little more than monsters. It had become immediately apparent why they were called _red_ templars, they were absolutely covered in red lyrium, some of them seemed to be entirely lyrium. The sight of it sent a pang through her for Varric, if people were really ingesting the stuff on this large a scale there was no way they could keep it contained. They had exhausted half their collected stock of potions protecting the first trebuchet when it was called to their attention that the other wasn't firing. So she quickly led them off through the steadily increasing snowfall to secure it. 

It was utterly overrun with horrifically twisted creatures. They had dispatched the entire group of them for the time being, and she wasted no time manning the mechanism herself pouring all her strength into winding the boom between waves of templars. The next wave hit and it was bloody, they were out of potions. Revas had taken a sword to the back, thankful her armor had saved her skin, yet winded and staggering nonetheless. Cassandra was flagging to keep the templars’ attention away from Solas and Dorian, their barriers getting weaker. Her movements were slowing from the effort it took to wind the trebuchet, her limbs leaden. She had just sunk her daggers into the neck of a horror, killing it when a shout caught her attention. She spun around wrenching her daggers free just in time to see the templar let loose a smite in her direction, no doubt aiming for Dorian and Solas behind her. 

Her eyes went wide as time slowed to a crawl. The wave of negation striking her before she could even tell her muscles to move. It ripped through the barrier over her, dispelling it instantly before eviscerating her mana. She could spare no thought to her concealment as the pain of losing her mana in such a brutal fashion wrenched an anguished cry from her throat. It was pure agony, and dangerously like the void she felt in Redcliffe. Her mana gone, an empty pit in her stomach, a feeling like having a warm blanket ripped off her- thrusting her into the cold, she was sure she’d _never_ be warm again. She dropped to her knees shaking, heaving bile from her stomach into the snow. She was vaguely aware of Cassandra and Dorian dispatching the remaining templars as Solas moved to protect her. A warm hand on her shoulder- the only light as the dark spots that swam across her vision threatened to overtake her, the only heat that existed in the increasingly violent storm.

Once they had a reprieve, Cassandra turned on her in disbelief, “Herald? You are a Mage?” She didn't answer- what could she say? _Yes, sorry I’m a mage and a liar, or perhaps really? I hadn’t noticed!_ She bit her tongue- gathering her strength, resolutely dragging herself to her feet as Solas’ hand fell away. The trebuchet still needed to be fired. She heard Solas tell Cassandra “Now is not the time Seeker,” Cassandra replied, “You knew?! You- you lied to me?! You said she wasn’t a mage!” He sighed in frustration “This can be addressed later.” Dorian piped up “Yes later is good, or really anytime we’re not in the middle of a battle for our lives.” 

She had finally reached the trebuchet, hitting the catch and stumbling back on her ass as it hurled its payload into the side of the mountain, triggering an avalanche that buried the mountain side and the army under it. She was still reeling from the disorienting whoosh of air when she realized the fighting had stopped.

They all turned to her in unison, unaware she had even moved in their exchange.

“We need to move” she croaked. Her words rough in her throat. 

Dorian pulled an arm around her as he helped her stumble down from the platform. They all froze as a screeching cry rent the air, she briefly met Dorian’s gaze with a knowing look. They had heard that sound before. “RUN!” she shouted as a jet of red corruption hit the trebuchet, rendering it useless and flinging them into the snow. 

They had to get back inside the walls. They couldn't fight a dragon in a blizzard. She wasn’t even sure they could fight a dragon at all. She tried to focus on the task at hand as they hobbled towards the gates. 

Dorian deposited her on the low wall next to the blacksmith’s as he and Solas raided a cache of potions someone had left in their haste to flee. Solas moved to her, soft words of reassurance, “Here Revas, this will help.” Gently grasping her chin and tipping a swirling blue potion gradually to her mouth as Cassandra helped Harrit break into his cabin. She swallowed the potion roughly, trying to focus on his hand warm on her face and not the strange sensation that flowed into her. She'd never had lyrium before, it suddenly made everything sharp and too bright. It tasted of metal and… music? Definitely tasted like blue, she was sure of that at least. She wondered idly if this is what the sky tasted like. Perhaps she was losing it. She grimaced at the aftertaste, shaking her head trying to right the world as the potion slowly soothed her ravaged mana pool. She didn't bother with the concealment. She'd need all her mana to make every attack count. Solas helped her to her feet, and she could feel the concern he conveyed. She gently patted his arm strengthened by the small comfort. She would be alright for now. In fact… she felt better than alright. Her new reality was slowly creeping up on her, she wasn’t hiding. She was _free_ and there would be no going back from here, no matter what came. She wasn’t sure if it was the lyrium or the realization but she was… alive, like _REALLY_ alive. A slow grin crept up her face as she unsheathed her daggers, gathering her growing magic about herself. Lighting her daggers with a thought, imbuing her muscles with haste, strength, and resiliency. She looked up to meet Solas’ gaze just as Cassandra finally broke down the door. He was looking at her like some piece of her puzzle suddenly fell into place. She winked at him before turning towards the gates; he’d finally see what she could do.

They fought their way through Haven, following cries and screams saving as many as they could. She used her magic without reservation, making her a blur in battle, the molten sheen of her blades cleaving easily through the armored red lyrium of the templars. She would not give them another chance to rend her, or her companions. However Cassandra might feel about their deception, she was sure there would be no argument that her magic made short work of their foes. Perhaps it would be enough. Although perhaps there would be indignation that she hadn’t used it sooner, bears were tough. 

They were last to stumble into the chantry as the dragon raged outside. Cullen immediately ran up to her uttering “Herald...” before trailing off, bewildered at the change in her markings and the still glowing metal of her blades. She waved him off “Cullen, focus”. To his credit he did. They were interrupted by the young man from the gate, as he helped Chancellor Roderick convey an escape route. She let out a long sigh, centering herself as she prepared for what was to come. They wanted her to bury Haven, the closest thing she’d had to a home. 

They needed a distraction for everyone to have enough time to leave before she brought the mountain’s wrath down upon them. What better than to give this Elder One the audience he so desired? 

She looked to Solas, and he nodded solemnly. “I will go with you Revas.” 

Dorian hadn't said anything but moved to her side anyways; apparently she had made an impression on him. She smiled at him weakly, turning to face Cassandra with an apology written on her features as clearly as her revealed markings. “I will go with you Herald, whatever it is you are I cannot deny you are exactly what we need.” She nodded before giving Cullen a lingering look, “Get them all out” she stated. “Let that thing hear you,” he replied. A wild grin lit her face, oh she would. She gathered her strength, her mana, turned on her heel and flew out into the storm, a truly formidable war cry echoing after her. 

\---

The trebuchet was loaded and aimed. They were exhausted. The fight had been brutal on them, a massive creature more lyrium than man had pushed them all to their limits. She barely had time to turn to her companions before the dragon descended upon them. She yelled out to them “Run! Now! Get to safety!” as they disappeared from view behind its bulk. 

This was her job to finish and she wanted them safe, she wanted Solas safe. If this was to be her end, then at least he would live because of it. The dragon uttered a scream that cleaved the air with its corrupted fire, knocking her to the ground as something drew near through the haze of smoke and flame. The Elder One, it had to be. A towering hideous creature with lyrium fused to it, skin stretched over its bones and the odd metal plates of his armor. She could hardly believe her eyes at the sight of it. If it wasn’t for all the horrors she’d seen in the past few hours she’d have blamed it on the lyrium potion. 

His commanding voice demanded her fealty, her exaltation. She only bowed to one with a claim to godhood. She refused, responding only to attempt to pry more information out of the rambling ‘god/magister/darkspawn’. He attempted to take back her _anchor_ , sending pain coursing through her before declaring it spoiled. She struggled to her feet as the creature closed the distance. Seizing her by the wrist and hauling her up by the arm wrenching it from the socket as he swung her at the trebuchet. She fought through the pain to stand, leaning heavily on the war machine. She just barely noticed a bright light flare up above the mountain pass briefly before the wind and snow blew it out of sight. She hoped that was the signal. She felt for Solas, determining he was far away in the same direction. “Good enough” she spat, staring the creature down as she kicked the release mechanism sending the payload into the side of the slope above them. 

She ran and didn't look back. 

The wave of snow overtook her as she crashed through the ground into the cavern below.

* * *

Revas awoke in a haze of pain, her left arm useless, anchor on fire, cold seizing her muscles, but she lived. Or- at least she was pretty sure she _hadn’t_ died, she hoped being dead wouldn’t hurt so much. Snow had sealed off her magnificent and unexpected entrance. “Ugh”, she groaned attempting to stand. All of her injuries made themselves known, her ribs sore, a broken finger, a throbbing in her head where she must have hit it crashing to her escape. She tried to laugh but it came out as a whine, at least this cold should keep the swelling down. What was it with her and blizzards? What did Varric say? Divine bad luck? She thought of Fen’Harel, a pained chuckle fell from her lips “I guess you could say that.” 

She trudged through the cave, coming across a spot where the veil was very weak. What had Leliana said about Haven? Cultists that sacrificed things and murdered tourists had lived here? “Or something like that” she mused to herself. As if answering her thoughts the veil sparked around her. “SERIOUSLY? C’mon!” Of course it would be demons, she groaned as they manifested before her. Her mana was dangerously low. She was conserving it for what little warmth she could muster. She took a chance and flexed the anchor in her hand hoping it would be enough to pull them back across the veil. She smiled inwardly despite the pain the action caused- she had spent too much time with Solas she mused. She hadn’t thought that would actually work as they vanished in a flash of green. 

She could see the cave entrance up ahead. “Ugh of course, still a blizzard.” Was it too much to hope for that she had been knocked out until it had stopped? She let out a deep sigh, there was nothing else for it. She trudged out into the storm, heading in the vague direction of the tug in her chest that called her. It had to be better than dying in the cave. 

\---

She passed remains of campsites- she must be higher up in the pass than she thought. All of them long cold, she didn't know how long she had been out for but it had been long enough. She was now shivering uncontrollably, having lost feeling in her limbs a while ago. Her torn pelt did nothing to block out the wind. She couldn’t even muster a spell for warmth anymore. Her strength was failing; the effort to drag her broken body through the deep snow had become too much. A wolf howled in the distance and she wished she had the strength to shift into her wolf form, it would be warmer, but then she wouldn't be able to limp along on her dislocated arm. She gathered the last of her resolve and let out a howl of her own, long and loud. Well they would either find her and help her, or eat her she mused weakly- deliriously, always a chance with wolves. Her call was returned by something she barely acknowledged as she sank to her knees- darkness closing in, feeling for their connection, clinging to it. She was going to die out here and she wanted Solas to know she loved him. “ _Mir vhenan naeth in ne_ , carry my heart vhenan... Carry my love.” Last thing she knew was the panic that reached her from him. “Shhh” she whispered, sending the last of her strength into calming it as she began to pitch forward. “It'll be alright vhenan.”

* * *

It practically destroyed him to leave her there to face Corypheus alone, but now was not the time for him to reveal himself to the world. He was equally torn to feel his foci so close. If only he could reach out and take it, but no. He had already underestimated the power of the creature that took it once- he could not afford to do so again. He only hoped this would not be his last chance. The dragon had cut them off from her. He heard her voice over the din telling them to run, and so they did. Cassandra led them back through the chantry and up the path into the mountains. He had barely paid any mind to where he was going; clinging to her connection, all his focus on trying to discern what was happening in the valley below them. It couldn't be good. Pain bloomed across their bond and his heart twisted in her direction. He should be there, shielding her. He forced himself to keep going, the pain increasing with each step.

They had just spotted the top of the mountain pass yards away through the blowing snow. The signal flare shot up, barely aloft for more than a few seconds before guttering and blowing off course. He hoped it was enough. In the space of a heartbeat afterwards he felt her reach for him; it wrenched his heart as he knew what must come next. Seconds later he heard the trebuchet fire, and the answering roar of the mountain racing towards her. He fell to his knees; sure he had failed her at last, waiting numbly for the connection to go silent. It dimmed and he prepared himself for the worst, for the return of the void. 

_It didn't go out._

He held his breath, _How?_ How could she have survived? He kept his vigil of the buried valley barely daring to breathe as minutes ticked on unnoticed, the slight flicker of her presence persisting as he dared to hope. The pull of her threads gradually strengthened. He slowly stood, she was moving?! It wasn't possible. Yet she was, it was barely discernable, he couldn’t even tell exactly what direction into the valley. He was barely aware of the others standing around him, trying to get him to leave his watch. He ignored them, his face set in stone as he continued his silent search for her through their bond. He cast a spell for warmth, realizing she must be freezing. The others had returned to the camp on the other side of the pass. He briefly looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed, silently cursing them for their weakness when he saw that Dorian was standing watch with him. The mage had been uncharacteristically silent. Dorian briefly met his gaze before looking back out into the valley. He noted the cloak Dorian wore; his Revas had made it for him. He turned his gaze back into the dark, uttering with certainty “She is still alive,” hearing Dorian gasp slightly at his words. 

A wolf howled in the distance. His heart raced but it wasn't his Revas. He could barely feel the connection again; he still couldn't tell where she was. He didn't dare head out into the blizzard without a heading. A woman's voice answered the wolf. 

_It was her._

He tore off down the slope, Dorian hot on his heels. His little wolf had slumped to her knees and he felt her pouring what she could into their bond before passing out. He was casting the spell for warmth, healing before he even reached her, directing it into her gently as he clasped her to him, calling her name softly. Dorian casting supplemental magic of his own as Solas gathered her up in his arms. They kept her warm as they carried her up the mountain to safety.

\---

The camp was in disbelief as he and Dorian returned with _their Herald_ they had given up for dead. A sudden flurry of activity with them at the center, directed them into a free tent. Solas promptly growled at everyone to leave him in a voice so ragged they complied, he noted Dorian stayed and he allowed it. Between the two of them they assessed her wounds, popped her shoulder back into place and kept her warm, Dorian focusing on heat while Solas healed her broken bones and cuts. Before long a commotion outside the tent nagged at his attention, and Dorian shot out of the tent in a rage, his voice carrying far “Don't you _dare_!” he yelled. A muffled voice answered him. “You will not set a templar outside this tent, or I will set him on fire _myself_. I don't care for your concerns, she just saved all your lives and I will not have you treat her like a monster!” Solas smiled as he stroked the hair from Revas' face. He was glad he had another to help watch out for her. She was going to need all the help she could get. Dorian slipped back inside the tent, barely containing his rage. His opinion of the ostentatious mage soared.

“Thank you Dorian” he uttered. 

“Yes well”, he waved Solas off, “She's been through enough. They don't deserve her,” he finished matter-of-factly. 

Solas wholeheartedly agreed. 

They kept their vigil in a comfortable silence. All they could do now was wait, she was through the worst of it, her injuries healed yet they’d still be sore. He busied himself with gently undoing her intricate braid work, freeing her hair to its usual unruly state. He took comfort in her strengthening presence. She was dreaming. He would be here when she woke.

* * *

She was pretty certain she was lost. A shifting grey nothing, vague impressions, the sensation of being watched. Was she dead again? Nothing hurt here… she must be dead she decided. She picked a direction and wandered off across the suspiciously rocky ground as it materialized before her steps. She realized she was unarmed and it unnerved her for a half a second, “Well not like I can get killed again.” She scoffed, based on her luck that’s exactly what would happen next. She tried to focus, tried to bend the landscape to her will, what was it her keeper had said? She was in the beyond? The fade? She should be able to direct it like in her dreams… yet- something was resisting her efforts. Odd. Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask right?

“Hello? Anyone here? Where am I?”

_“You are on the right path.”_

She slowly turned on the spot, bewildered. Yet the voice had no discernable direction and it had an odd ethereal quality, neither male nor wholly female, reverberations of both at once. “The uh, right path?”

 _“Yes, the right path. The wolf waits for you.”_ She could hear the smile in the voice of... _whatever_ was speaking. The wolf, did it mean Solas? “What do you know? What do you mean?” she asked warily. 

_“Do not worry Revas- you have been here before. No, you aren’t possessed. Yes there are things we can’t tell you yet, and no you are not dead, nor are you in immediate danger.”_

“Huh, those sound like things I would ask.” She thought for a minute, “Wait a sec… You-” 

She stood there blinking, shaking off the strangest feeling she had just been talking to someone… but who? There was nothing here, she didn’t even remember _getting_ here. Where even was here? Odd. Maybe she was dead? Faint elvhen words spoken softly, lovingly, pricked her ears, they were beautiful, familiar. She followed them, trying to place the quiet voice. “Oh!” The realization dawned with her growing smile. “Solas.” Could she visit him in the fade if she was dead? Maybe. She followed his voice, consumed by the strangest sense that she was on the right path.

* * *

Dorian had fallen asleep in his chair, the heat rolling off his enchanted cloak doing more than enough to keep the tent comfortable in his mental absence. Solas sat on the edge of her cot, leaning over her, gently stroking her hair, murmuring soft words, promises, poetry to her, just so she could hear his voice. He'd just finished a particularly beautiful Elvhen poem when a hand touched his face. 

“That was beautiful Solas.” 

His eyes flew open as he stilled, “Revas?” 

She nodded weakly, smiling up at him, a soft _“Oh”_ falling from her lips as he gathered her up in his arms, holding her close. She inhaled deeply. “Mmmmm.” 

He spoke low, “I thought I had lost you my little wolf.” She mumbled “You can't lose me, I am yours.” She let out a tiny yawn, “I'll always come back” she uttered sleepily. 

He held onto her tighter. More of her faculties were returning “Hmmm if this is your definition of needing space it's not so bad,” she nuzzled her face into his chest. 

He chuckled biting back a sob; he knew it must have sounded as wretched as he felt. 

“Shhhhh” she replied, patting his back as her arms closed around him “I'm here vhenan.” 

His heart melted at her words, one of his many questions answered. No, he would not let her go so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm you know how I said something about elaborating on my next chapters?
> 
> Ah well. Apparently I can lead my imagination to water, but it'll kick me in the face and write another sequel instead. Regardless of the fact I can't really post any of them until this is finished, spoilers and such.
> 
> Sooooo I'm thinking another update Wednesday, probably some character revelations, unexplained plot holes to fix, and ends to tie up, transitioning to Skyhold. ~~This _should_ pick up in pace from there.~~ Shhh ignore me.


	13. In Which One Wolf Sang To The Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gifts given. Hope spread. Hurts healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [DONE, FINALLY]  
> 4/7 + 1,377 words  
> 4/9 + 1,399  
> Total: 2,776 
> 
> Poor Jim. Yes that's right, I stole Jim from the Cullenmancers. Fight me.

Revas was just as surprised as anyone that she was still alive. And it wasn't long before half the camp had finally realized she was awake after an unfortunate runner had been faced with Solas' bristling indignation. The poor scout backed slowly out of the tent as Solas returned his attention to her. He seemed deeply shaken, then again- so was she. That Haven was gone, and that she had done _it_. Willingly _destroyed_ the closest thing she had to a home. Would that forever be her fate? Yet... She wasn't alone this time. A fact reinforced by his arms around her as he whispered all that had taken place while she was gone, while she was unconscious.

Their situation wasn't good.

“What about them trying to set a templar on me?” She had bristled when he told her how Dorian raged them away. “Word of your magic spread fast” Solas stated. She sighed, “And the markings?” He paused thoughtful, “I do not think it would be wise to hide them now.”  
She rubbed her face with her hands, “Ugh- too much to hope for I guess.”

Raised voices from outside the tent caught her attention and woke Dorian. "Ah our savior returns." His stab at mirth fell short as the commotion outside the tent escalated.

"Of course she saved the mages, _she’s_ a mage. Cullen's right, we should have pushed her to go after the Templars, if we had stopped them earlier maybe Haven wouldn’t have been attacked! And leave the mages in the hands of that creature? Would you rather have faced an army of mages Cassandra? Not everyone here is capable of countering magic, and it is clear that this Elder One had his hands in both their problems. UGH. _Please_ this is not helping, if we succumb to fighting amongst ourselves it will only lose us all we've gained. What exactly have we gained Ambassador? We lost Haven, we lost good people, we don't even know where we are! Cullen, we have our lives- It's not good enough."

Their heated words cut through her as her expression dimmed, setting her jaw against the bloom of hurt. Their position was much more precarious than she'd imagined. It seemed she was still one step ahead of being imprisoned. Undoubtedly they were just as exhausted and shaken as she was, but that didn't make their words lies.

Both Dorian and Solas were watching her carefully. She released a resigned sigh, pulling up a slight smile she didn't feel.

“Indeed, and apparently I have to save us from ourselves now.” She squeezed Solas’ hand as he helped her stand. He draped her battered pelt over her, his hand lingering on her cheek. She leaned into his touch before turning to kiss his palm with a promise that she’d return soon. Placing a hand on Dorian's shoulder uttering a quiet, "Thank you," Before she silently slipped out of the tent, surveying the camp.

Ah, yes- there they were, the advisors, entrenched in the middle of camp, their heated words had devolved into scaldingly animated whispers. It was quickly becoming increasingly ugly to watch. And when didn't they fight, honestly? They hardly ever agreed on anything, though the thought made her briefly thankful. If they agreed she was a threat then she'd be fleeing for her life again, or in chains. She sighed, unsure if the reception she'd receive at the moment would be a good one. So instead she circled around the camp, carefully picking her way through the obviously hastily erected tents towards a watchful Mother Giselle.

The woman was the voice of reason as usual. Utterly unconcerned about Revas' magic and talking at length about faith and hope stemming from what just transpired. She had to admit, what just transpired was fairly unbelievable, she wasn’t even sure she’d believe it if she hadn’t lived through it. Divine bad luck _indeed_ , no doubt Varric was somewhere having a field day with this, or a stiff drink. She’d have liked nothing more than to join him, rather than face the jar of bees that was currently the Inquisition’s advisors.

Revas sighed and ran a hand down her face as she watched the advisors break apart to different corners of the camp.

She had just resolved to talk to them separately when Mother Giselle started singing, actually _singing_ , here of all places. It caught her by surprise, even more so when the listless forces around camp began to join in. Clearly they all knew this song, some sort of Chantry hymn perhaps? It was objectively fascinating- and personally disturbing as they began to kneel before her. The subject didn’t make much sense to her, dark paths were her reality. Dawn was what she had always dreaded. Though she couldn’t deny how moving their voices were as they rose up in unison. She kept her expression carefully neutral as she noted even the advisors joined in, their voices proud and laden with emotion. Her ability to look at his all from afar was quickly unravelling as it _dawned_ on her what they were doing. What they were singing about. They were raising her up. She bit down on her reflexive panic. No. No no no, this was all wrong, she wasn’t supposed to be some sort of religious figure. She shifted uncomfortably. Then the circle arrayed about her suddenly reminded her of a different song. Of wolves in the dark, calling out their praise for her efforts to free them, this… wasn’t so different perhaps. It calmed her enough to endure the end of the song. Seeking out where Solas stood off to the side, watching intently. She wondered if the imagery wasn’t lost on him either. 

When they had finished their song, their hearts considerably lighter, and smiles on faces once more- she just stood in a mild disbelief. They had rallied around her, even though she was a mage… even with the obvious change in her markings. _That_ was not even remotely what she had expected. Nor did she expect the joy, the lightheartedness that had spread through the camp in the wake of their exclamation of faith. She was left wondering if they even thought of her as a person, maybe she was just an idea to them? A convenient figure to follow? Maybe they were just happy to not be dead. She’d finally turned away, intending to walk to the perimeter to sort through the confusing thoughts in her head when Solas appeared before her, asking for a moment. So she followed him instead, still dazed as he took her aside.

He had an oddly eager intensity as he remarked about the humans raising her up higher than any of their people for ages beyond counting. She wasn’t nearly as eager about the prospect as he was. Then he told her of the foci, the orb Corypheus had held, she raised an eyebrow at that, “What is it exactly?” He told her that it was an Elven relic of a god, and likely the reason for the explosion at the conclave, that they must figure out how he survived the explosion. She wondered if he had survived how she had, had he fallen out of the Fade too? That was an unsettling thought that she stuffed back down, considering the implications of the rest. At last she ventured the most likely thing that came into her head, whispering, “It's yours. Isn't it?”

He bowed his head. She noticed his hesitation, felt his pain. “Yes.”

“He… took it from you?”

“Yes” he replied, “I was tracking it when I reached Haven.”

The realization slowly dawned on her, “Then…” she looked to her marked hand, “This is?”

“Yes. That is the mark of my power.”

“Fenedhis,” she exhaled slowly, mulling over his words. The full scope of just how sharp the knife’s edge they walked was sinking in. “They mustn't find out about it. This would destroy the Inquisition, well- that is if anyone believed it, and then they would surely destroy us. They already call us heretics for my simply being an elf, the blowback of being a mage as well will be difficult to endure… but this? This is a revelation they could not survive.”

She watched the warm smile grow on his face in reaction to her words, a wave of relief flooded their bond as he spoke, “I suspect you are correct, we must prepare for their reaction.” She stepped back to pace turning slowly as she considered the high pass they were camped in, “What can we even do from _here_?” she gestured to the unforgiving mass of snow and rock around them.

A knowing smirk played about his lips as he closed the distance, catching her from behind, bending to whisper in her ear. “I know of a place, a place I haven't been in an age, it waits for a force to hold it.” A slow smile lit her face as he told her where to look. “Lead them, my little wolf, be their guide.”

She spun to face him, quickly kissing his cheek before running off to gather the advisors. Hope was something she could give.

\---

It was almost a lie, but not quite, enough truth to tell her without hurting her. Had he lied outright, she would have known immediately through their bond. She didn’t need to know that he’d intended for his agents to lead Corypheus to find his foci. That he was the reason for her trials. That his plans to reclaim it had failed, as the magister somehow survived the explosion that should have destroyed him.

He gave her a gift to steer his thoughts away from the budding guilt. _Tarasyl’an Te’las_. Skyhold, where he’d lifted up the veil, sundering so much from the world. The irony of her fixing his creation from the same place he created it did not escape him, nor the eventuality that it would also be the place in which he’d stand up to tear it all down again. He sighed as she ran off, immediately missing the heat of her lips on his cheek; she was so full of hope. He felt like he’d been the one dragging himself broken through the snow, to look at her you’d almost never know what she had just been through. He hoped she could hold onto her nature, hoped she would survive what lay before them.

Though she couldn’t take back her magic use, she could likely re-conceal her markings and no one would think too much of it. However, he found himself wondering once again what the reactions would be to them, to see her, _his Herald_ stride the world proudly, openly, not hiding who she really was…

_His_.

A sigh left him, he still hadn’t decided how this would affect his plans, yet perhaps she would help him as she had unwittingly declared? To have someone dedicated to him, and him alone. His own person, to not be alone, to have someone charged with his protection as much as he was charged with hers… It was, fascinating, worrying, and yet despite his misgivings he couldn’t seem to keep himself away from her. Especially not after her fade shrouded declaration of where her heart lay. _His little wolf, his heart_. 

While she attended her duties, he attended their sleeping arrangements. Wondering just how all this would unfold. Watching with great interest- this new legend that was weaving itself in her wake.

* * *

She had hoped they wouldn’t blame Solas for the lie, but Cassandra hadn’t let it slide. 

“Did you two coordinate your lies?” She sighed, “I was unconscious Cassandra. I did not-” The Seeker cut her off, “And what if that was a lie as well. What if you were not in as much danger as we were led to believe?” She bristled at that. “ **Danger?** Do you _honestly_ believe I am not in danger?! _Every. Damn. Day._ of my life has been **nothing** but a constant threat of danger. If not the threat of being killed- for being an elf, a mage, an exile- than the threat of being locked up for something I _obviously_ didn't commit. Or do you need more convincing proof than that blighted God monster that just _hours_ ago tried to kill me. _ME, Cassandra._ He made that abundantly clear. I _am_ in danger, and you are all in danger for harboring me. Tell me to leave and I _will_.

An uncomfortable silence met her words as she looked at each of them in turn. So she continued.

“This is not Solas' fault, and neither is it mine. Yes- I went after the mages, yes part of that decision is because I am a Mage. Because I was afraid of what would happen if facing the templars revealed what I am. I was afraid for the reputation of _your_ Inquisition because I did not choose this. And you did not choose me. I _KNOW_ I am not the herald you hoped for. And I know- I am not the herald you thought you knew. Yet, if you are willing to listen, I will tell you what I can.”

Josephine spoke up quietly, “You could have told us, we would have prepared, made plans…” 

She sighed, “Yes I could have. I won’t ask your forgiveness. I’ve had to keep everything close to my chest for the past decade- just to _survive_. Trust is a luxury I could not afford and it’s not something I am used to. The initial reception I received did nothing to help that. I am sorry for that Lady Montilyet, I have done nothing to make your job any easier.”

The ambassador waved her off, “Apology accepted. We know now and I am willing to listen. I will need something more to work with, to spin this in the right light. I just ask that in the future, please do inform us of any potentially detrimental secrets, yes?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Very well Josephine, I will keep that in mind.”

One down, three more to convince, she sighed. Josephine had been the easy one, ever the diplomat. Revas leveled the rest of them with an assessing gaze as she waited patiently, wondering if another would make their concerns known, or if she would have to just dive into blind explanations. She had just been about to open her mouth when Leliana finally said what was on her mind. 

“I must apologize. I knew you were a mage.”

That brought Revas' eyebrows up, as the other advisors echoed her surprise. _“Wait, what?”_ It had come out a little more wrong-footed than she intended as her train of thought abruptly derailed. “How?”

Leliana replied, “Your daggers. I travelled with the Hero of Ferelden during the fifth blight. She learned a very similar technique while we stumbled through an Elven ruin. She had two swords crafted in very much the same way as your daggers.” The spy looked contrite before the bewilderment that faced her, “I kept it to myself because I was attempting to figure out where you came from and if you had caused the breach, though I see beyond a doubt now that you couldn’t have had a hand in it.” She sighed, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry Cassandra.”

Cassandra, who had been uncomfortable in the face of Revas’ anger, was now resigned, deeply unhappy. Cullen on the other hand was purely taciturn, and if she was any judge mildly confused at the level of mutiny that was being unveiled. 

Revas felt an appreciation for the spymaster, despite her motives. So she carefully placed most of her cards on the table. “I am Revas, formally Ma’revas’an, formerly of the Lavellan clan. I was exiled in 9:31 Dragon over a vision my keeper had. It is of little consequence to you and I will not discuss it, but suffice it to say it conflicted with Dalish belief enough for them to cast me out over superstition. The markings you see upon my face signify my status as traitor, and mark me for Fen’Harel, their trickster god. They were forced upon me, a warning so I would never have a home among my people, for no fault of mine.” She took a deep breath weighing her thoughts before continuing.

“An elven mage without a clan is a danger. The clan protects the mage, and vice versa. That is why I had to hide all that I am. That is why I felt I could not tell anyone. According to your Chantry I am already a heretic, a savage, if they learned I was also exiled from my people for basically being branded the same? I don’t expect that to go over well. You should know, most of them consider me a monster, and there is a clan living in the wilds of the Tirashan with crimson vallaslin. In the past many have assumed that is where I am from.” She looked to Josephine with a deeply apologetic look, “That will not be an easy thing to spin, sorry.” She turned back to the rest of them, “Well that’s the short version at least.” She attentively watched each of their reactions in turn. 

Leliana was deep in thought, Cassandra and Cullen both looked vaguely uncomfortable. Josephine was… she shook her head with a slight smile on her face, Josephine was already writing furiously, trying to spin her revelations in a good light. If they lived through this she’d have to buy her something really nice, maybe a really fancy pen. She restrained a laugh as Leliana seemed to remember something.

“So you _are_ the Shadow of the Marches! I’ve heard much about you.” Her accent lilting as the excitement rose in her voice. “I had suspected at first but the descriptions of your tattoos were conflicting, now I know why. They talk about you as though you’re the messenger of a god, a shadow, a spirit, while others consider you dangerous, beholden to a god of madness and destruction, a demon. There are several accounts of you freeing slaves, and unfortunate souls who had been kidnapped. The songs are really quite interesting.”

Revas looked at her in blatant disbelief, “Wait, I’m a what? There are… _songs_ about me?!”

“ _Oh yes_ , in fact they became very popular in taverns all across the Free Marches, last I heard it had even spread to Ferelden; Denerim and Highever particularly.” She paused thoughtfully, “There was a whole ship full of elves that made its way into port there, all claiming some demon of vengeance or freedom had killed all the slavers that had held them captive.”

“I… huh. Well that was me, though they weren’t terribly happy about it at the time.”

Josephine mumbled, “Oh that’s good, we can use that.” Revas shot her a look but she was already focused on her writing again.

“They said that after that incident the _Shadow of the Marches_ wasn’t seen again, but then Ferelden is a big wild place to hide. Of course, the stories continued on without you.”

“I… well then. I had no idea.” She reached up to grasp her chin to make sure her head wasn’t actually spinning. This was, entirely unexpected, though not completely unpleasant. It seems her clan’s intent had somehow backfired.

“I would love to hear about your travels, when you have the time, Herald.”

“Call me Revas.” She replied automatically still deep in thought, wondering how often she was going to have to remind people that she had a real name. She finally surfaced from her thoughts smiling wryly at the spy, “I would love to tell you, and then perhaps you can tell me about these songs in return?”

She felt lighter than she had in years; she wondered what Solas would make of her apparent fame, or infamy depending on the tale. She considered the implications as she turned to Cassandra and Cullen, they had been very quiet. She wondered if they had been the ones who tried to set the templar guard, Solas hadn’t known and she hadn’t had a chance to ask Dorian. Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, it would only hurt her opinion of whomever did it.

Cullen cleared his throat, gesturing to her markings, “I’m not sure I understand.”

She considered it thoughtfully. Who was the traitor in Andraste’s story? Maferath or Hessarian? She could never remember. “Hmm Maferath will do, Cullen imagine your grandmother had a bad dream about you and Maferath, they took it to mean you would betray the Chantry in some way in the future. So to make sure you could never go near a chantry again they tattooed the word Maferath on your face in the most lurid color they had.”

Cullen paled and nodded tersely, “Your grandmother… Did that to you?” He looked like he immediately regretted asking as she sucked in a sharp breath, biting her bottom lip hard. She momentarily closed her eyes, giving a small nod. “I hope you understand it’s something I’d rather not discuss.” She exhaled roughly when he replied, “Of course, Herald.” She steadied her composure and turned to Cassandra.

The Seeker finally spoke, “Why didn’t you trust us?”

What Revas heard was _‘Why didn’t you trust me?’_ “Though I don’t hold it against you any longer, what I woke up to… didn’t exactly inspire confidence.” She sighed, “Once I gained a better grasp of what was going on I didn’t know how to tell you. So my magic became a backup plan I intended to use if things really went to shit.” Cullen chuckled at her language and she shot him a small smirk before continuing. “I am sorry Cassandra. I did not want to deceive you.”

Cassandra looked at her dejectedly. “My impulsiveness has put you in more danger than I could have guessed,” she ceded.

Revas smiled at her kindly, “Cassandra, I have always been in danger. The fault is not yours. I still want to help you fix the world, if you’ll let me.”

When she felt she’d cleared the air enough she gave them her hope, telling them of the fortress to the north, a place for them all to be safe. She told them she would lead them to it, if they were willing to go with her. They brightened up considerably at the news and set to work planning at once. She told them what she knew of Corypheus, and how she’d escaped. She asked Leliana to send a swift scout to check on the rest of the rebel mages that were still out there somewhere heading towards Haven, to warn them and divert them to the area she marked on the map. After a time she’d stepped back, watching the advisors working together with renewed purpose. She soundlessly slipped out while they were busy.

She meandered through the camp on her way back to the tent she’d woken up in. So much had transpired; she didn’t even know where to start. Crazed magister darkspawn, a corrupted dragon that was hopefully _not_ an archdemon, and to top it off she wasn’t dead. Her thoughts were longer than her walk so she let them go as she slipped into her tent.

\--- 

Solas was waiting for her, sitting on her cot, working over one the furs from his bedroll. She noticed a second cot had been set up. He looked up from his work as she walked towards him, a slight smile on his lips. “I hope I'm not too presumptuous,” he gestured to the second cot, “As your healer your care takes precedence.”

She smirked, “Ah- such excuses to be in my company,” she sat on his cot facing him. “You can’t fool me. You’re just here because this is the only open tent far enough away from where Bull and Blackwall are snoring to actually get a good night’s rest.”

He chuckled tiredly, “That is just one of the many benefits. Someone must stick around to make sure you don't disappear.”

“I do have a habit of that don’t I?” Her deflated tone caught his full attention as she pulled her knees up to her chin. "Sometimes I wonder... It feels like pieces of me fall away, to disappear. That at the end of it all I'll be forgotten by everyone who ever cared about me. Written out of history like Shartan, or altered to the point of being unrecognizable.”

“Is that what you felt when you closed the breach?”

She looked up to meet his serious gaze, “After, yes. During I felt… whole. Like the pieces of me I can’t remember had fallen back into place. Was it… not supposed to feel like that?”

“It’s possible, I hadn’t anticipated…” He fell into a thoughtful silence that wasn’t entirely reassuring. “I will think on this, and in the meantime-” He reached out, brushing a wild strand of hair from her face, his thumb brushing warmly against her cheek as he leaned close. “I will not forget you Revas.” She gave him a weak smile in return as she unfurled, her gaze falling to the pelt in his lap, noticing he was cutting a section from the edge of it. _Curious_. He eyed her silent question, “Ah this, I noticed that your pelt was damaged. I thought you could use this to mend it.” He offered up the cut section of his pelt.

“Oh Solas,” she took it from him carefully, before abandoning all pretense, immediately nuzzling her face in it, inhaling his scent. She sighed contentedly as he laughed. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever given me.” That warm smile of his reappeared as she felt his heart seek hers. She stroked the fur in her hands, musing “A white wolf and a black wolf. A very fitting gift for the woman you're courting,” she teased. The self-satisfied look on his face told her he’d intended exactly that, “I knew the apposition wouldn't be lost on you-” she heard him say “my little wolf”, but felt him say _’vhenan’_. It was a curious insight into this man of hers, and as she set to work she figured it was safe to ask. “Would you be willing to explain what being bonded entails?”

As he descended into a rueful silence she removed her pelt and set out the tools she carried in the leather pouch on her belt, a small sewing kit and sharp knife. “You have my apologies Revas. That is something I should have explained before it took place, or even before you left my cabin that night.” He paused as she tentatively glanced up from her work, cutting his pelt into sections. “A bond between two Elvhen is a sharing of the heart and mind. Essentially it makes us one in many ways. It is an intimate step in a relationship that is not to be taken lightly.” As if to punctuate his words she felt his guilt as he paused once more, reaching out to squeeze his hand reassuringly before she arrayed the strips of white fur to fit the gashes missing from her pelt. “It affords an intimate method of communication that was once far more common, it affords proximity- direction to the heart you’ve bonded, and it affords heightened sensation.” She looked up once more, mid cut “Are there any… drawbacks? Anything bad that comes with it?” He held her gaze, the gravity in his expression worried her. “The void you felt- the void I felt… that was just the bindings of your markings, the breaking of the oath of protection. It is meant to be painful, yet it would wane slowly with time. If one who’s bonded dies, it is often a death sentence for their mate. The pain is said to be unendurable. And few choose to try.” The admission punched the wind out of her. It was a terrifying prospect, and one that had nearly just happened. His light chuckle brought her back to the present, as she leveled him with an incredulous look- that he could laugh at such a thing. But then she saw the sorrowful look in his eyes as he continued. “Yes, it is not to be taken lightly.” A soft sigh, “The magics that grant the bond grow stronger with time, as does the benefits- so do the consequences.” He reached up to grasp her chin, “So if you are having second thoughts little wolf, you should make them known soon. A bond can be dissolved, but it will become more difficult to do so with time.” She swallowed thickly, "How long?"

He released her, leaning back, his movements lined with a confidence she felt suddenly devoid of. "A few years, perhaps- more or less." She let out the ragged breath she'd been holding. That was a time scale she could work with. So long as she didn't die before then, so long as he didn't- could he die? Her many questions about his past began to multiply once more as she fought to focus on her work to drown them out. If she started asking now neither of them would sleep, and he sounded as tired as she felt. She resumed carefully cutting strips from her pelt complementary to the gashes to fill with the excess left over from his. Quietly mulling over all he’d told her as he watched her intently. After she sewed them all up she offered what she had cut from her pelt to him, as her favor.

He took it reverently, his hand lingering in hers.

\---

He had been forced to guess, he wasn’t entirely sure how the veil would affect bonding. It would weaken the magic, perhaps enough to afford him more time to decide. To decide if she would assist him, if he could afford the risk of sharing his burdens with her. If not, he could always set her free as he had planned before the bond became too permanent to remove with his current strength. It set his mind at ease. There was still time. Though, it was a dangerous game to play. He knew all too well what that grief could do to another, a grief he’d just narrowly avoided. 

Once Elgar'nan realized what he allowed to happen to his bond mate- what he’d perpetuated in his growing malice, when Mythal... The destruction he wrought upon Arlathan only hastened Solas’ own efforts to raise the veil. To lock them all away. Though his friend had eventually returned, it took many years for her to gain coherence. Years the world could not have survived in the face of the wrath and depravity of the Evanuris... and their darkened counterparts. 

The Forgotten Ones. There were a few among them who sacrificed their own sentinels in barbaric rituals just to feel the pain it brought on, to taste the _exquisite_ void they so often chased like a high. Reveling in the agony it inflicted. The memory sickened him.

He pushed the past away as they pushed their cots together settling into their bedrolls. His hand threaded through hers under the furs. They drifted off to sleep, anchored by the presence of the other, thankful they had escaped void for one more day.

* * *

The trek further into the Frostback Mountains was cold and arduous, but everyone seemed grateful to be moving, especially with the promise of a home at the end. Grateful wasn’t exactly hopeful though, it was more in the grey middle as far as morale. At least the weather cooperated and they weren't attacked again. It was a small bit of luck, and he wasn’t sure what kind, and if they needed more or less of it. Varric was no less shaken than the rest of them, though perhaps he had the benefit of experience to hide it better. It gave him an idea, something that always worked on Hawke when she’d been dragging herself through the mud. He’d need a barrel of ale, a deck of cards, and some insight from his new friend. A strange boy, he’d often sidle up at the slightest thought. Then again he’d seen some strange shit, and this was far from the worst. 

“Ask her about the Free Marches, this time she’ll tell you.”

“You sure kid?” 

“Yes, she’s free when she smiles. She smiles when they do. Light lilting laughter, this is what it’s like to have friends.” 

“You sure don’t pull any punches do you?”

“You don’t pull punches Varric, you throw them… Or do I have that wrong?”

“It’s an expression kid. Ah don’t worry, you’ll learn quick enough.”

* * *

A couple nights into the trip Varric had gone around inviting people to play a game of wicked grace. Ostensibly to keep up morale, yet she was fairly certain he had ulterior motives. The fact that he managed to procure a barrel of ale only helped him entice reluctant would be players. She and Solas had been caught early. They sat side by side as their companions slowly turned up. The notable absences included Vivienne, unsurprisingly, Leliana which was probably a small mercy, Josephine which probably meant the Antivan was bundled up in a tent somewhere, and Cassandra which worried her. Sera was trying not to glare at her, and mostly failing. It sent a pang through her, the confirmation of her fears. Bull's eye had lingered over her markings but he showed no sentiment one way or the other. Dorian sat on her left, and it brought a smile to her face to see he still had the cloak she made. Blackwall, a reluctant Cullen, and Varric showed up last. Blackwall had looked at her curiously, Cullen was more concerned with the prospect of ale, and Varric was certainly planning something. Yet she had thought there had been someone else, a boy? She forgot all about it as soon as Varric passed tankards around.

Varric had asked if everyone knew the rules and she was forced to admit she'd never played. So he ran down through everything far too quickly for her to retain. She'd leaned in to whisper to Solas, “Help me?” He donned a decidedly mischievous look as he spoke, “Varric, you should know that Revas is attempting to convince me to help her cheat.” She shot him a dirty look before burying her face in her tankard, before long she surfaced, grumbling for a refill. She was going to beat them all if she had any say in it. Then they’ll see.

A couple rounds passed amid playful jibes and she'd memorized most of the winning plays, attempting to mimic them. Several of them had been Solas' much to her chagrin. Varric began spinning a tale about the Champion of Kirkwall that had everyone laughing. It made her happy to see everyone so lighthearted, so free from their worries, their trials. The ale probably helped. Though, when he finished he had turned to her, “So _Trickster_ do you have any tales? Maybe from your time in the Free Marches?” She nearly choked on her drink. She was two tankards deep and had completely forgotten about her title, she looked sidelong at Solas, she hadn't told him yet.

“ _Perhaps_ … I'll give you a hint, Varric.” She mimicked his pauses for dramatic effect as the storyteller leaned in, wrought with anticipation. Assuming her best stab at nonchalance as she continued, “I apparently held a title and there are supposedly several songs written about me.” She now had Solas' undivided attention.

Her smirk only grew when Varric slapped his leg. “Shit, you've got to be kidding me! _YOU'RE_ the Shadow of the Marches?!”

She chuckled. Sipping her ale as everyone but Cullen looked between her and Varric for more of an explanation.

“HAH I’ve _got_ to write a letter to Daisy! You know she once lead us on a wild chase through the mountains looking for you after she’d heard a rumor you were spotted near Kirkwall. We had all thought she was going crazy. She'll explode when she learns I finally found you.” He chuckled, shaking his head, “Don't be surprised if you get a letter back full of irrational questions.”

She laughed and chanced another look at Solas, the obvious question hanging on his features, so she downed the rest of her ale and regaled their group with the rough story of what she did to warrant her unexpected infamy and that she'd only found out about it when Leliana told her.

She won that round, literally and figuratively.

Solas ultimately beat them all though. In fact his poker face was as inscrutable as the sentiments in their bond had been, where she couldn’t hide her excitement from him. It had been worth losing so devastatingly to finally break the tension she had felt around most of her companions since she’d buried Haven. It felt like a small pain shook itself loose in their renewed acceptance; even Sera had stopped glaring after she had learned how many “little people” Revas had helped. Though she still couldn’t help but think she was forgetting something, someone? The thought left her as everyone began retiring to their tents for the night, she was perhaps more tipsy than she’d anticipated when she tried to stand and failed. Solas offered his hand and she’d taken it, wobbling slightly as she got to her feet. Someone whistled, probably Sera, it was followed by obscene squishy noises. Yes, definitely Sera. She looked back at Varric as Solas gently steered her to their tent, sending him an exaggerated wink that was sure to get him writing. She’d probably regret that later, but she was currently too happy to care.

He pulled her close once they’d stepped into their tent, his eyes roaming her slightly upturned face. She was about to apologize for not telling him sooner, when he pulled her into a tighter embrace, leaning in close to her ear as he began to sing low. Honeyed Elvhen verses spilled from his lips. She only caught so many words, yet it was enough to discern that it was about her, and it was _very_ intimate. Their bond thrummed with his intent. She laid her head against his shoulder as he finished, she could have listened to his voice forever.

He spoke quietly, “Another song to add to your collection, my little wolf, my shadow.”

She smiled against his neck, her words failing her, yet she knew what she conveyed to their bond was sufficient.

* * *

Aside from any meetings she had to attend Solas rarely left her side as they scouted. He even shadowed her as she helped hunt for game in the evenings to make their scant supplies last. He was quite the hunter himself. As silent as she could be and he matched her in prowess. It sent shivers through her as she remembered how he had hunted her in their dream. She had to fight her thoughts to keep them from turning dark. She only had romance stories and Varric's books, which she had now determined only loosely adhered to that classification, to inform her of the notion of courting. She wanted to let Solas steer their course for now- as undecided as she still was about the decision of their bonding. It was a huge risk to take, one she was willing to accept, but him? How could she let him take that risk? He was ancient, and she... Well she was fated to die in the blink of an eye compared to him. The eventual pain wasn't a risk for him it was a certainty, unless there was more going on? Did he have a death wish? There was a weight to him at times as if he shouldered the burdens of the world as uneasily as she did.

Though, he also seemed to be fighting a similar battle with darkened thoughts. Occasionally she would feel desire across their connection only to turn and see him appraising her with his eyes. She'd blush and fight to keep her thoughts unclouded. Usually successful, but this time she’d failed, wondering what he'd feel like over her, what his lips tasted like. Her gaze grew hazy as she felt her excitement catch and spread through her as if she was nothing but dry kindling. A soft moan from Solas brought her back to reality. He'd felt it.

She spun towards him, blushing profusely, an apology on her lips as he closed the distance. Not touching her, but bending down to her whispering, “So impatient, but not here my little wolf. This dance is made more... _fulfilling_ ” he lingered on the word, “The longer the music plays.” She fought to contain herself as he straightened, that’s when she spied the strips she had cut from her pelt fastened with care to the cord of his wolf bone necklace. She smiled up at him. He'd threaded them through with beads and toggles of obsidian and bone. The overall effect was pleasing, not to mention he was wearing her favor so openly. He caught her gaze smiling, brushing his hand against her cheek. “I suggest we head back to camp, before they send Varric looking for us.”

She chuckled darkly. The dwarf had been even more insistent with his questions lately. “What are we going to do about him?”

He mused “It seems likely we should tell him something, it wouldn’t be wise to leave him to write his imagination- if his books are any evidence of that.” She laughed at that disaster of a thought.

\---

She and Solas had dropped off the meager spoils of their hunt with the cooks, before wandering through the camp towards where their tent had been set up for the night. They were intercepted by Varric who called them over to a merry campfire he and the boy from the gate had been sitting at. The boy flitted away as they approached and she soon forgot he'd been there at all. Varric of course began poking them immediately. It was like he knew they’d just agreed to tell him something.

She sighed, looking to Solas who nodded resignedly. “Alright Varric, three questions. Make them count.”

So she told Varric that Solas was courting her, and that to date he'd recited poetry, given her a gift of his own pelt and sang her a particularly beautiful Elvhen song, and that yes he had a lovely singing voice, no they hadn't kissed and there hadn't been any sweeping yet, whatever that was about she felt she didn't want to know.

He seemed to be satisfied for now so they made their escape while he was busy writing it all down.

* * *

It had been a little more than a week of difficult travel, yet as the fortress loomed above them. It was more than they could have ever asked for. The hope coursing through the bedraggled Inquisition was almost tangible as they fell on the old fortress in a flurry of activity, immediately working to restore the great building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Cole.  
> I always thought that Varric and Cole were a dangerous combination. 
> 
> I was gonna work these points into the chapter somewhere, but then I didn’t… Because holy hell this is getting long.
> 
> Revas didn’t learn until much later that Cullen had stopped taking lyrium long before then, and thus he had seriously doubted his worth to the Inquisition in that moment when he couldn’t even tell their Herald was a mage. (Then again what’s the consensus on him “overlooking” a mage Hawke? I mean surely he had to notice.) 
> 
> As far as Cassandra I’m going with the fact that Revas had never taken lyrium before, so that the Seeker’s ability to sense lyrium in others (and burn it) hadn’t tipped her off. It’s probably a weak premise, but I’m going with it. 
> 
> **Psst… they both set the Templar guard.**


	14. In Which She Was Raised Up Above All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions tied. Ascension of status and rumor. Concessions made.
> 
> A spirit is drawn to the wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters until more ~~(normal)~~ smut, woo! 
> 
> Hahaha what's normal smut?
> 
> 4/10 + 2,103 words

After several weeks of hard work, countless meetings, visits to the sorely awaited tavern, and stolen moments with Solas, Skyhold had finally become somewhat livable. Most of its inhabitants had settled in with more on their way each day as word spread. That people would willingly join an organization where she was the person they looked to in order to fix things… It was still a strange notion to accept. Yet, it was still mostly humans, a few city elves, and the occasional dwarf. She dreaded the day the Dalish caught wind of her ascension- that is if their word carried any weight. The way humans talked about her forsaken kin... She felt their potential accusations wouldn't even make a dent in their faith at this point. Yet, it seemed prudent to worry.

Though, among the occasional savage rumor overheard as she roamed the fortress, sussing out its secrets, she began to hear the strangest rumors about herself. And though her status as the _Shadow of the Marches_ had caught on fervently- if the sudden influx of recruits from the Free Marches were any indication, it was the rumors about her change in markings among the most devout that gave her pause.

They were starting to get _weird_. Some people claimed she'd actually died in Haven and The Maker has bestowed her with new Divine marks. Angry red, a symbol of his vengeance. Others claimed she had not died, but been transformed like Andraste, striding out of the fire ascended to demi god-hood. A symbol that their cause was just. The rumors about her magic were admittedly less strange, though they had a larger range of interpretation. Many claimed that they had known all along that she had been a mage, some attributed her powers to stepping out of the fade, while others charged ahead and claimed that the Maker had given her those powers to match her marks. Surely these people would drive her to drown in a cup long before she righted the world. She wondered which of those had been fueled by Josephine in an attempt to waylay any talk of her being more savage than they feared. She couldn’t deny it seemed to be working, despite her uneasiness and the overwhelming urge she carried to want to correct them. She bit her tongue, knowing the truth wouldn’t endear her to them. She hated necessary evils, despite their necessity- they made her feel dirty, like some sort of con artist. 

It was that more than anything that precipitated her frequent tavern visits amid her duties. Though, it was far from the only thing that bothered her as the days of rebuilding Skyhold, and their reputation dragged on.

She'd been steadily growing more and more frustrated at being cooped up in the old fortress. It was a nice gift, even more meaningful that Solas had shown her how to find it, essentially given it to her. Yet, losing Haven had hurt, it was the closest thing she had to a home and for it to fall by her own hand... She couldn’t deny that Skyhold felt safer, but it was new- unfamiliar. It made her feel like she didn't belong all the more and she was reluctant to relax. As if relaxing here would make it more like home, and as soon as that happened she’d lose it again. So she stayed slightly on edge, wearing her full armor, pelt, daggers and all as she roamed the fortress, carrying out whatever needed to be done. Her life was nothing but rumors. Even that simple act of insecurity fueled discussions of how dutiful she was, how she would be ready for anything the next time Corypheus appeared. It was slowly wearing her down. 

The lack of time she could spend with Solas, and the lack of privacy afforded them did nothing to help matters. She was currently one of the few without an assigned room aside from him- as he insisted the rotunda was fine, yet her reluctance to accept one was more about where they wished to put her, than her wish for privacy. It only served to fuel her anxiety, no place to call her own, no place to escape from it all, no place to relax with Solas, and no time for her many questions to receive answers. 

And she had so many questions for him, yet they hardly ever had time alone. She wanted to know what really happened. The Creators, were they still around? Were they really locked away? Had he really done it? Were there more out there like him? Ancient Elves? Where did they go? What happened with Tevinter? How did Elves lose their immortality? And the questions only kept piling up. She eventually took to writing them all down to keep from forgetting them.

She'd chanced asking him in a muted whisper one day if he'd answer some questions about the past, “There are things I cannot tell you yet, my little wolf. We must focus on the task at hand before we can delve too deeply into the past.” His reply was disappointing, though not entirely unexpected. However he relented to at least answer her questions about spirits and forgotten magics, things that could actually help her current objective. He had sighed lightly as the disappointment he felt from her was conveyed. “My impatient little wolf, there is time yet.”

\---

He spent a considerable amount of his time examining his new picture of her. It hadn't been a surprise that she’d been so well known throughout the Marches, yet to know that some there had clearly favored her actions enough to put them to song? To spin tales about her? He wondered not for the first time if she would consent to herald his return in truth after Corypheus was dealt with. Her influence could make all the difference as his plans moved forward.

He wasn't about to be outdone by the storytellers either. He'd decided to pull her aside, putting to words precisely what she meant to him, even if most of the meaning would be lost on her. Perhaps he could teach her, if they ever found the time. It was another thing to add to the long list of things he could show her, first and foremost though, he’d promised to spar with her. To teach her about the _Dirth’ena Enasalin_ , and although it was not a skill he’d practiced in, its techniques were well known to him. It was a skill that suited her immeasurably, and to have seen her use it in Haven… he couldn’t deny it had set his heart racing. There was much he could show her, much of his world could live on in her should he fail again. 

He'd wondered when he decided he would eventually tell her everything, when he started seriously considering sharing his burdens with her. He found he could barely deny that curiosity of hers, her thirst for knowledge. Yet he knew it wasn't wise to divulge too much- yet. He was worried the information would change her, change how she thought of him. She relented to his excuse, for now. He could appease her with small things. Someday he'd tell her everything, and he hoped she'd consent to remain at his side. He hoped she'd understand why he had to raise the veil. Why he had to do what he needed to in order to correct his mistakes, no matter the cost. Though it pained him to consider it, he knew he would set her free of their bond if she wished it, if when she learned the whole picture of him- she no longer wished his company. He tried not to dwell on those thoughts, the time for that choice was far off and there were other more pressing things to concern himself with. 

In the lack of time they had together as the old fortress was put to rights he barely contented himself with their stolen moments that always left him wanting more. He took to plucking their bond with his emotions, his intent. His heart swelled when she'd respond in kind. They often had such _'conversations'_ through their bond as she helped the restoration effort. It put his mind at ease as he planned his next moves, watching events unfold around her.

It had not escaped his notice that the young man who called himself Cole was a spirit. He'd observed him gently nudging events into place, a seemingly helpful spirit. He watched passively as the spirit flit about taking particular notice to his little wolf. He felt there was no danger in the interaction, though likely it would need to be addressed at some point. He wondered if spirits had always been so drawn to her, or if it was the anchor. Considering her strange dreams, he assumed the former. She'd never mentioned if she had other dreams, he wondered if she was ever visited by spirits- or plagued by _demons_ like the others of her blood. She slept so soundly and with such focus he felt that it likely wasn't true. It was a question the dreams he’d constructed for her so many months ago had never managed to answer. He couldn’t bring himself to spy on her natural dreams without her knowledge, it felt… wrong. 

What drew them? What drew him? There was a subtle power about her. The closer he got the more apparent that was. Was it simply his markings? The anchor? The way the fire in her eyes would soften when met with his gaze? He sighed wistfully. This was not a productive line of thought.

He'd once almost asked her if he'd misjudged the Dalish, yet he knew that was wrong as soon as he thought it. He hadn't misjudged them. How they'd treated her, when she was something truly special. Their actions had only forced her to grow into the rare spirit she was. Their only credit to her transformation was that they had perhaps saved her from a truly mundane fate. He didn't want to imagine her as closed minded as her kin. 

He began to paint the walls of the rotunda to help ease the passage of time.

* * *

The four advisors stood divided by more than the massive war table. 

“She is a mage, can we really present ourselves as being led by one? The Chantry will never stand for it. We'll be seen as a mage organization.” 

“Are we not? I have known many mages and they were better people than most, some even better people than me. The rebel mages are in our care, why not embrace it?” 

“It would win us as many allies as enemies. Nevarra, Rivan, and if we're careful with Nevarra- we may even find allies in Tevinter. Let me worry about the rest.”

“I'm not convinced she can handle it. She's an exile, she knows nothing about politics, nothing about making decisions that affect more than herself.” 

“That's not true, though I do not agree she made a practical decision for the mages. Better than what I would have done in her place. Leliana, have you learned more about where she came from?” 

“I have, but that is a conversation she should be here for. I have done enough talking behind her back.”

Cullen let out a long drawn out sigh. Everyone but Leliana shifted uncomfortably- “Well? Have we decided?” 

“If you think it's best.” Leliana spoke up, “I do.”  
“Me as well.” The two of them looked to Cassandra who nodded, “If you think we can pull this off I will accept it.” 

“Cullen?” 

“Very well. Make the arrangements.”

* * *

Every time a mention of her room came up she deflected the conversation. They wanted to put her up in the tower, high above everyone and everything. To her it only served as a metaphor made immutably physical, them raising her up to be worshipped, idolized. It felt like an official endorsement of her consent to take up the duties expected of her. While she was content to do what they asked for now, making it official, binding, it felt like a step too far. And she abhorred the thought. Instead- she was partial to the rooftop overlooking the garden. Or behind the large bush in the garden. Or the magnificent if not incredibly dusty study she’d discovered. Or by the fire in the kitchens after everyone had gone to bed. She wasn't sure what the cooks thought about that one every time they stumbled in, afraid to wake her so they could start making breakfast. She had felt bad and usually tried to help out, despite their protests. She'd have been more than content to stuff herself in next to Solas on his couch in the rotunda, but after several scandalized gasps from Dorian and the shadow of a dwarf repeatedly peeking in the doorway they reluctantly decided he didn't have nearly enough privacy for her to stay there as well. That one night they spent there entwined under his furs, her laying half on top of him, had been wonderful. It was the most at peace she had felt since Haven, and the only time she had felt safe. 

She was ambushed by Josephine and Vivienne while leaving the war room. They tried to lecture her on making herself presentable for when dignitaries started showing up. She didn't see what the fuss was about; she got to dress however she liked in Haven. Though apparently fancy fortress needed fancy clothes, and then they brought out some form fitting beige monstrosity.

She stared at them blankly. “I am _not_ wearing that.” 

“Well you can hardly continue to run around dressed like a savage my dear. This outfit is the very image of humility. The faithful masses will adore you for it. As you are you'll only scare them away.” 

She narrowed her eyes at Vivienne, she could never tell if the Iron Lady was insulting her or not. “If they scare so easily we don't need them.”

Josephine edged in, “Actually we do, desperately.” 

She sighed rubbing her forehead, “Well I'm not wearing that.” She'd turned on her heel striding out of the great hall despite their protests, off across the courtyard to where the requisition office had been set up. If she didn’t fix this now, they’d only corner her with something worse later. 

No one had seen her for the rest of the day, though the requisition officer had complained about odd grumbling noises coming from behind a stack of boxes in the store room. Every time someone got it in their mind to look for the noise, they'd suddenly remember they had somewhere else to be. 

She'd spent the day painstakingly crafting her own clothes, tunics and vests, leggings all in her favored shades of black and grey with the occasional scrap of color from all the bolts of cloth she’d scavenged so far, working through the night to complete her work. She was thankful she didn’t have to do it all by hand; it went much smoother with her spellwork to aid her.

It was a few hours before daybreak when she'd changed out of her armor and pelt in the empty store room, folding everything neatly before pulling on her new clothes. She chose a dark grey off the shoulder tunic in a style similar to all the ones she'd lost in Haven. Pulling on a pair of leggings made from darkened samite long enough to cover half her feet yet still leaving her toes bare. She fastened a tight dark red vest over her shirt. The material rigid enough to feel like armor, the keyhole collar wrapping high around the back of her neck, covering the bite mark Fen'Harel had given her. 

She inspected herself as best she could without a mirror. Everything seemed to fit well. She donned her pelt over the top of it all. They'd pry it from her cold dead hands. It seemed like there was much she would have to concede in the future, her pelt wouldn’t be negotiable unless _absolutely necessary_ , not with Solas’ favor sewn into it. After dwelling on why she still felt so naked, she removed the belts from her armor that held her daggers, fastening them securely around her thighs. The change was palpable, this would suffice. She only hoped they deemed it sufficiently civilized, if not overly armed. The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east with the first pale shades of sunrise when she crept out of the storeroom, sneaking across the courtyard to the great hall. Solas was still asleep in the rotunda when she crept inside, quietly stowing her armor under the scaffold where both their packs lay next to his staff. 

She was about to steal away into the kitchen to see if breakfast had been started when a slight rustling noise caught her attention. Solas was waking up. She'd frozen mid step, afraid of making more noise as he rolled over. His eyes were open, adjusting as he looked at her. He hummed his approval, his gaze roaming over her, taking in the clothes she'd crafted. “I had wondered where you disappeared to.” 

She smiled as she relaxed her stance, stalking quietly over to where he lay, sinking down to a low squat to put them at eye level. “Well, if you had seen what they intended to stuff me into, I don’t think it would be much of a surprise.” She paused, eyes catching on the hint of bare skin beneath fur, realizing that his chest must be completely bare, “I am sorry if I woke you Solas. It’s still early,” her words came out breathier than she intended as her pulse quickened. 

Chuckling softly he replied, “I can only imagine this must be a considerable improvement, and you didn't, not intentionally. I felt that you were near. It was a more compelling call than my dreams.” She went to wave off the familiar compliment but he caught her hand. Pulling it to his mouth as he gently kissed her fingers, his eyes locked to hers. 

She'd suddenly wished they had more privacy as her eyes drifted shut at the warmth of his lips, his breath light on her knuckles. His quiet laugh as breathy as her words when he felt her intent rise in their bond was sweeter than music to her. It was such a lovely sound, and it certainly didn’t help matters. She sighed quietly, attempting to divert her thoughts. “I don't suppose you could hide me somewhere today? I don't know what this big announcement they have going on is, but if they won't tell me about it then it can't be good. Not to mention I probably shouldn’t have stayed up all night. I’ll be dead on my feet by noon if I don’t get a nap,” she grumbled, “Though that’s unlikely… between the noise and the constant interruptions.” 

He shifted, sitting up as his furs spilled off of him, pulling her up to sit next to him. She leaned against him pushing back the hood of her pelt as she rest her head on his shoulder. He drew her up closer as he stroked the inside of her wrist. “I wouldn't let it worry you Revas.” He hummed, “If you’d like, I know a spell. Nothing would interrupt your rest until I woke you.” 

She considered the offer while looking anywhere but at him, at his bare chest in the dim light, the fluidly subtle flex of his muscles as he shifted, the soft caress of his fingers on her wrist. The pale freckles that dusted his features, the heat in his gaze as her eyes found his. She cursed herself inwardly once she realized her restraint had clearly failed again. Wondering what other types of spells he might know, the vibrant heat made its home in her core once again. His breathing hitched almost imperceptibly when he felt it, her face flooding with a ruddy hue, she mumbled out her apologies as she dropped her gaze. Clearing her throat roughly, “I… yes, I would appreciate this spell of yours.” 

\---

She sorely tested his resolve, and in any other setting he’d have liked nothing more than to retaliate. He bade her to lie down as that ache in her gaze reemerged, unfastening her daggers and setting them to the side. He gently cast the spell for her to sleep as he covered her with his pelt. Her face softened, the weariness held there recently fled as her lips parted, her breathing slowed. He sat next to where she was curled up, transfixed by the sight of her until the sounds of Skyhold’s residents waking disturbed his reverie. He dressed and went about his day, yet he couldn’t stop his attentions from drifting back towards her. Despite his efforts to remain patient he knew he was going to have to close their distance soon, the longer he waited the more likely he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

* * *

They made her Inquisitor. 

It had been a perfect ambush. Revas had woken to Solas’ counter-spell feeling much better, yet starved and muddled by sleep. Cassandra had been waiting, having shown up to fetch her just before noon. It had left her even more wrong-footed, she hadn’t expected the Seeker to come get her. It seemed like she was doing better, more her usual self. Revas had been so busy trying not to think about how hungry she was, and how nice it felt that Cassandra was talking to her warmly again that she never saw it coming. The Seeker had steered the conversation to what she and the other advisors had decided, that Revas was exactly who they needed, and that they trusted her to guide them. Revas’ brows had furrowed, gears beginning to catch on to where this was going. 

“Wait, you want to do _what_?!” She whispered harshly to the woman, standing on the stairs in front of the large crowd that had gathered. The woman leveled her with a subtly judging look. “I mean… I’m not exactly the best candidate… I would have thought you-”

"No, this is not my purpose. It was merely my duty to start it. I trust you to finish it."

She had asked Cassandra then if she was sure, handing this power to an Elf as well as a mage, that she was an exile went unsaid- but she knew it was as much as a hindrance. Cassandra replied warmly that such power would give her pause to hand to anyone, but that Revas had proven that she was capable. Revas would have laughed, and remarked that it had more to do with her uncanny knack for surviving than any wise decisions on her part, but it seemed inappropriate. 

The fervor and hope it had given everyone present was hard to ignore so she'd accepted with as much grace as she could muster. Not to mention they’d sprung it on her so publicly, there was no way she could decline without hurting their efforts. The whole thing weighed as heavily on her as the enormous sword they’d bestowed upon her. 

Slinking away from the festivities as soon as she could, she found herself in the garden, the sword resting precariously across her shoulders. It was a pretty thing, and it would have been a decent weapon if it wasn’t so ornate that it rendered the thing almost strictly ceremonial. The weight of the duty it represented, the trappings that trapped her- it only made the pretty thing reflect the ugliness of the situation all the more. She planted it point first deep into the ground amid the elfroot, stepping back to admire her work. It looked strangely like it belonged there, some grave marker for her future. It was transfixing, dark shadows reflected in the gold seemed to proclaim her doom. She was fixed on the spot, her thoughts spiraling deeper. Would they bury her here as easily as she had buried Haven? Would they even show her that much care when this was all over? What if they turned on her instead? Taking her life with the very sword that stood across from her as their faithful declarations echoed in her mind. She wanted nothing more than to shift into her wolf form and dash out the gates. Even for a few hours of blissful freedom. She couldn’t leave for good, no matter how she wished it. She knew, knew the darkness her absence would bring. Was that her fate? To save them at the expense of her sanity? The pit of that despair overshadowed even the aching hunger that left her feeling lightheaded. 

As she stared, mesmerized by the marker that seemed to mock her, she thought she heard a voice speaking softly to her. “You’re still you, they only make you more.” She looked around for the source of the voice, but the garden was mercifully empty. She spotted a tray full of her favorite breaded cheese bites balanced on the railing, steam still rising from them. She chuckled to herself before stealing away the whole thing- shoving bite after bite into her mouth as she climbed the steps to the battlements, her fears drifting away with each step she put between her and the grave, with each warm bite that filled the pit. 

\---

It woke a fierce desire in him as he watched them raise her up, their leader in truth. She wasn’t theirs. She deserved to be raised up by _his_ side, he longed for it. Suppressing a low growl that threatened to escape him, he reminded himself that this was a means to an end, a trial run of sorts that they needed to see through. It didn’t escape him that she was less than pleased with their devotions. 

He’d felt her despair blooming wild once she’d slipped away from the celebrations that consumed the courtyard. He’d followed at a distance, watching, resolving to go to her when he paused in the shadows of the hallway, assessing the sight before him. The spirit was leaning over her shoulder, whispering in her ear. She didn’t seem to notice its presence, though she’d heard its words. 

A small smile rose on his face as he felt her recover, her confidence, her grace returned. He had to stifle a chuckle as he took back that last thought, as she tripped slightly climbing the stairs to the battlements. 

He would leave her to her thoughts, now that they were bright once more. Wondering what she would make of the spirit who’d helped her as he turned back to observe the celebration of Skyhold’s interesting inhabitants.

* * *

They'd eventually found her refuge and strongly suggested she take up the room in the tower. Refusing now would likely send some sort of unfortunate political message now so she reluctantly gathered her things she'd stashed all over Skyhold before grumbling all the way up the stairs. Solas had silently questioned her with upstretched eyebrow when she came to collect her armor and pack, and she sighed as he drew near. A reassuring sentiment, “It’s not as bad as you expect Revas.” 

Solas was, after all, right. She’d been fully expecting huge statues of Andraste, or weird ornate furniture, really anything but the sparsely decorated open room before her. It was... Private at least, she thought as she turned on the spot taking in the room. Though, it was just as lofty as she feared. The room should honestly be a watch tower, a signal tower, hell even a rookery, not a bedroom. She sighed, dumping her things in a pile by the couch. It was one of the few things in the room besides the desk and chair, not nearly enough book cases and a large wooden canopy bed. It looked solid... Perhaps she'd have to see just how solid. 

She'd been jumping on the bed for several minutes when Josephine ascended the stairs. A look somewhere between bewilderment and a laugh caught on her face. Revas almost didn't skip a beat as she asked her what she needed. Coughing midsentence as a considerable amount of her hair made it into her mouth mid bounce. 

Josephine stifled a laugh behind her hand finally saying that she would come back when the herald was less busy. 

“Oh no, Josie, come back!” She yelled at the retreating ambassador. “You've got to try this!” 

A slight chuckle from the stairs and the door shutting was her only response. 

She smiled inwardly as she deemed the bed sufficient, climbing down from the mess she made of the blankets as she walked to one of the balconies. She was certain this was her favorite part. Standing there thrust out into the air as the shadows lengthened, the fortress descending into a myriad of softly lit spots to mirror the darkening sky overhead, she felt she could pretend Skyhold and its faithful masses didn't exist. Maybe it would be ok. 

She looked back around the room through the delicate stained glass. Wondering if she could requisition some supplies to do with it as she pleased, after all if she was supposed to stay here she might as well make it comfortable. 

It was quiet as she lit the fire in the hearth, it seemed like the sounds of the ongoing celebrations below were reluctant to tread upon her solitude- falling short of the tower. Sounds weren’t the only things, no one visited after Josephine left. She wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted or not. It was nice to have privacy for once… and an actual bath, but it felt odd not to have company. No thoughts but her own. After a time spent staring down at the revelry from the balcony she retreated inside, several shouts having finally reached her perch, they’d spotted her it seemed. As her incredibly long day finally began to catch up with her she briefly sought out Solas, finding that he was somewhere near the rotunda and …amused? She laughed quietly as she slipped beneath her blankets. 

Apparently her man harbored a secret love of parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the Spells Solas knows. 
> 
> Almost almost almost wrote the advisor decision from Cole's perspective, but I figured it probably reads confusing enough without his thoughts in it.
> 
> Next chapter companion stuff and ~~fallow mire, (probably).~~ Suggestive fluff heap.
> 
> [Revas' outfits ~~(updated version)~~](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/post/142009631485/revas-typical-outfits-haven-halamshiral-and)


	15. In Which She Shouted From The Battlements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Highs follow lows. Inner turmoil reflecting controlled chaos. 
> 
> Herding cats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and suggestive bits, nothing _too_ explicit, but a bit heated.
> 
> 4/11 + 2,260 words

As the cold light of dawn illuminated the glacial valley casting glittering refractions of light across the fortress, few were awake with any coherence after the lengthy celebrations of the day before. However one man had already risen, studiously adorning the walls with her story when a muffled yell permeated the old stones followed swiftly by a wave of sentiments as dark as her grumbling. Ah yes, without curtains that room did get quite bright if one did not rise as early as he did. He chuckled softly. His amused sentiments surely did nothing to soothe her indignation.

* * *

That would need to get fixed immediately. Top of her list- _curtains_. Revas had rolled off the bed, thudding to the floor in her attempt to escape the blinding morning light charging shamelessly through the massive windows. Grumbling as she rolled to a stop under the bed, this was definitely not one of the better ways to be woken up. Although admittedly it ranked better than waking up to find the vacant cave you’d fallen asleep in actually actively belonged to a bear. She laughed at the memory, the perspective convincing her she might as well wake up and try to spend the day somewhat productively. Free from her duties save for getting ready to _finally_ leave Skyhold tomorrow, she figured she should probably visit her companions. With how busy they’d all been she hadn’t really run into most of them, though some she had avoided on purpose.

She dressed, donned her pelt and daggers, and descended the stairs to see the great hall empty. It was strangely peaceful, the hall usually so noisy between the renovations and the constant stream of hardly hushed gossip. She soaked in the quiet until her eyes fell on that garish sword from yesterday laid across the equally loud throne. Oh that would not do. If they wanted her to lead it wouldn’t be like _that_. She fetched up the sword once more, dashing off with it back to the garden, planting it where it should be. 

"You are up quite early little wolf."

She spun at the voice, spotting Solas propped against the doorway to the hall. Mired as she was in her thoughts she hadn't felt him approach. She couldn’t keep the grin from settling into place, "Not on purpose, though I might as well take advantage of it."

A soft chuckle, "And I imagine your next stop is the kitchens?" He offered his arm as she approached, "Mind if I join you?"

“Oh you know me so well,” laughing quietly. She could hardly deny him when he put it like that. Threading her arm through his "I would like that."

\---

It turned out Josephine wanted to compliment her choice of clothing and had wanted to know if she could get the designs so they could be passed on to the Inquisition’s tailors. Revas readily agreed if it would prevent disasters like that beige travesty from ever happening again. She breathed a sigh of relief that her clothes had been deemed at least somewhat acceptable. Though, wearing her pelt everywhere was still a point to argue it seemed. 

She'd left Josie's office intending to work up her nerve to go see Vivienne when she was intercepted by Varric. He told her cryptically about a friend he wanted her to meet on the battlements by the tavern later. She warily agreed, hoping this ‘Daisy’ of his hadn't mailed herself to Skyhold. Resisting the urge to go hide in the garden for the rest of the day, she mustered the courage to face her companions.

The Iron Lady berated her about Haven. It quickly set her in a foul mood, one that was readily apparent, if misattributed. “You’re angry, good. Anger can save you when everything else is gone. Just make sure you put it to good use.” It had set her grumbling as the Enchanter continued her criticisms. Vivienne somehow both seemed approving and slightly disapproving of Revas being a mage. She'd clearly caught the Iron Lady off-guard and it felt like an odd sort of victory, an accomplishment she was certain wouldn't ever happen again. “My dear, that mages can hide themselves as well as you did, is exactly why circles are needed. While I doubt you had malicious designs, there are many who would. There is simply no way to prevent mishaps if mages are allowed their freedom without _strict_ supervision.” She deeply disagreed with Viv on that, _everyone_ deserved freedom. “You can’t just confine a group of people based on what they might do, Madam de Fer, that would be like locking up all distillers because one had the notion to create Butterbile 7:84.” It provoked a cackle of a laugh from the woman, “Oh darling, aren’t you a laugh! Butterbile is _much_ less likely to kill someone.” Revas sighed, Vivienne likely had a point there. Still, as she left the woman to her machinations she found herself wishing she’d had a bottle before delving into _that_ conversation. She felt undeniably biased about the topic, and that would probably not win her any allies… but in this moment, she didn’t care. 

She slunk around the edges of the upper courtyard for a while, hesitant to disturb Cassandra. It appeared the Seeker was reading a book, and if the not-so-casual way she kept scanning the courtyard was any indication, then it was clearly something she didn’t want seen. It set her curiosity running rampant. A fact confirmed by the way the Seeker jumped and hastily hid the book when Revas finally approached. It took more coaxing than usual to get the Seeker to show her the book. Either she thought now that Revas was Inquisitor she should be above such things, or it was even more embarrassing than usual. It turned out to be the latest in Varric’s Swords and Shields series, ‘ah- so embarrassing then.’ The enthusiastic brightness that radiated from Cassandra while she spoke about the book had set an impervious smile on her face as she listened. Revas considered her request, intending to at least ask Varric how his next book was going. She liked it when the Seeker smiled like that; it was lovely little gift, like a small window past the woman’s tough exterior that let her carefully guarded heart shine through. Revas left Cassandra to her reading, wishing there were more people in the world like her.

She stopped by the tavern next, ostensibly to visit with Sera, covertly to down something to set a pleasant burn in her stomach at the prospect of facing the tempestuous elf. It had been a smart move she realized, by the time she turned the corner and caught Sera’s eye, the not-elf’s ever-shifting expression had settled on something decidedly grumpy. Sera threw things at her. Guess she was still mad about the mage thing, or the Corypheus thing, or the great big corrupted dragon thing, while there wasn’t a true fury in her, it was tiring. She couldn’t repeat her own fears back to the elf, surely that would only make it worse, or the things she was throwing heavier. It was a short encounter, her departure hastened by a goblet smacking her in the face, wine and all, after she’d tripped over the low table. It was then she resolved to eventually prank the prankster, hoping it wouldn’t backfire on her too badly. Sodden and distinctly as bruised as her pride she retreated to the first floor, grabbing another shot from Cabot. Grumbling to the tune of the dwarf’s succinct observations as she headed for the battlements. 

Cullen had spared her a curious glance at the obvious failure of her last encounter still staining her face before burying himself in reports once more. He was busy as usual and he had waved her off when she asked how he was settling in. She wasn’t sure if his taciturn mood was due to all the work he was mired in or the obvious hole in his roof. She’d have to check back on it later, he definitely didn’t seem to be doing very well. He was curt, and prone to scowling lately. She wasn’t sure if that was due to her magic or due to something else. Either way, it didn’t bode well to her that one of her advisors clearly did not approve of her. It was a marked change from the man who’d shared tales of Ferelden with her around a campfire all those months ago. She slipped out in defeat, slowly crossing to the rotunda as she wondered why she had thought this was a good way to spend a day off. 

This wasn’t going nearly as well as she had hoped, and much worse than she had feared.

Her presence in the rotunda didn’t go unnoticed. Solas had stopped painting to turn to her as she sunk down in his chair. The frown on his face growing as he took in the sight of her. She ran a hand down her face, wincing as she brushed her cheek, feeling the shape of the mark there. A slight cut where the rim of the cup must have hit her. She sighed as Solas maneuvered her, chair and all to face him as he bent down, water skin and damp cloth in hand as he gently dabbed it over her face. Soft apologetic words as he cleaned the cut despite her flinch and bitten lip. His warm hand cupped her cheek as he healed the small cut, the wash of his magic reaching deeper than the superficial wound, caressing the jagged edges of her weariness into less painful shapes. “I see it’s going worse than you expected.”

The statement coaxed a wretched chuckle from her. “If there was ever a statement to sum up my entire life- that would be it. In fact, when I see Varric I’m going to suggest that’s what he title the book.” It brought a small smile to his face as he assessed her. “Sera?” She sighed, nodding, “Sera.” Her gaze shifted to the walls. His paintings were as fascinating as his method, his thought process, as he worked on them. She suddenly would have liked nothing better than to hide the rest of the day away here, yet she’d set out to talk to them all, and talk to them all she would. Her hand lingered in his as she whispered for him to find her when he was done. 

At least Dorian was somewhat companionable, although he was tearing apart the library. He turned to her as she sank down in his usual chair, trying to discern the method in his madness, “Why do you smell like the ass-end of Ishal way?” It took a minute for any of those words to register as she met the nose-wrinkled crooked-‘stached grimace on his face. “I smell like what?” He gestured as if it wasn’t important yet explained it anyways. Apparently ‘Ishal way’ was one of the main avenues in Minrathous, the ass-end being the lower impoverished district up against the walls. The smell apparently being watered down wine, and piss, and leather… prostitutes, horses, the weird runic tang of the juggernauts… The ‘ands’ went on for a bit as he slipped into reminiscing about his homeland. She nodded where appropriate as she tried not to let the half-insult sink in further, fairly certain she only smelled of wine at the moment, though the day was admittedly still young. She surfaced from her thoughts as he was offering a book to her, saying “Us pariahs have to stick together.” She offered him a warm smile and her thanks in return. Clutching the small book to her chest as he shooed her to vacate his chair, turning it over in her hands as she ascended the stairs to the rookery, it was a book about the fade written by Magister Callistus and translated into common by someone named only as Merax. It was a small thing, but it made her feel a bit better about the whole day. 

Leliana chatted with her enthusiastically about stories and songs, though her demeanor visibly wilted at the mention of Haven. Revas reassured her that the loss at Haven wasn't her fault and that they were better than monsters. Leliana’s mood softened considerably and next thing she knew the spymaster was singing a song about the Shadow of the Marches. It was a lovely rendition, though she didn’t doubt everything sounded lovely in that lilting voice of hers. It was a fascinating if not slightly exaggerated account of one of her exploits. She was fairly certain her eyes didn’t glow, and she was definitely certain she hadn’t actually eaten anyone’s heart. Yet the praise of her defense of the humans who’d been captured was… heartening. She was mildly surprised they hadn’t left out the part where she was an elf. They’d been travelling merchants set upon by bandits, though with the amount of detail no doubt one of them was a bard. She was aware that the whole library had fallen silent at the spymaster’s words. When she chanced a look down to the bottom of the rotunda, she was surprised to see even Solas had paused his painting to look up, listening wistfully. She left the spymaster to her work, her opinion of the fiery woman greatly improved. 

Leliana wasn’t what she had expected _at all_. Yet perhaps the change in her approval had more to do with being intimately familiar with what it was like to constantly keep others at arm’s length, seeing much of herself in the spy.

She raided the kitchen on her way to see the Warden. As she walked down the steps towards the stables she caught herself singing that song under her breath, it had lightened her sour mood considerably. Of course it all came crashing back down once Blackwall had her walk the battlements with him. She hadn’t been sure what to make of the scruffy man before now, confident that he could be entirely summed up as _‘duty at all costs’_. It wasn’t a sentiment she shared, being more of a _‘duty when absolutely necessary’_ type, or even a _‘duty because everyone dies if I don’t’_ type. He ranted at length about sacrifice and his intent of dying for her, lecturing her that any of their recruits would do the same. She was sufficiently furious when he turned back around- asking her if she was _actually_ the Herald of Andraste that she shouted, “ **NO** , _I’M **NOT**. I’M THE HERALD OF FEN’HAREL._ I **wish** people would get that straight.” He gave her a black look and she could practically feel his disapproval as he obviously took her admission as sarcasm, “They need you to be Andraste’s messenger, the truth doesn’t matter.” She watched as he walked away, sullen, waiting until he was out of sight before she fisted her hands in her hair, contorting her face in a silent scream, livid. “Infuriating, Asshole, Jackoff, Duty-ridden pox-monger.” Each insult punctuated by a bolt of ice shot over the wall. It did little to calm her as she pulled her pelt tighter about herself. Though she couldn’t deny how good it felt to yell that at him, to finally tell someone the truth, even if they didn’t believe it. She sighed heavily, trying to ground herself before striding off towards where Varric asked her to meet him.

Varric was already drinking, “ _Great_ , you too? This _can’t_ be good,” she muttered, “I don’t suppose you have another?” He wordlessly passed her a bottle, and they sat in silence as she pulled the cork out, draining half of it, choking. “ _Creators_ … Varric what in the void is this?”

“Liquid courage,” his voice ragged- roughened by more than just the potent drink. It left her wondering exactly where this was going, who she was supposed to meet.

“So this is the Shadow of the Marches?” Her gaze snapped up to their new arrival, a woman with white blonde hair and olive skin, in unquestionably heavy looking full plate armor yet she looked entirely sure of herself, hip cocked as if her armor weighed nothing. A small smile curved her lips, “So this is the Champion of Kirkwall?” Silence hung as they stared each other down. Hawke was the first to laugh, and Revas soon followed. Varric looked immensely relieved. Revas snorted as Hawke lamented, “Oh the titles people like to throw around these days! Between the two of us we could probably put any king, queen or empress to shame.” It only made her laugh harder, the alcohol probably helped. Hawke leveled her with an endearing look, “Oh I like you, Varric where’d you find her? You do know we once ran through the mountains on some crazy errand of Merrill’s looking for you?”

Varric finally laughed, “She _literally_ fell out of the sky, Daisy always had a knack for picking the weird ones.”

Revas chuckled, “Yes, Varric did mention that. It’s funny, I actually passed through Kirkwall shortly after you defeated the Arishok. The uh, lovely statue of you on the docks doesn’t do you service.” It was Hawke’s turn to snort, “Ugh that awful thing, it’s always covered in broken glass. Strange it always seems to happen after I get tossed at the Hanged Man, I wonder who would do such a thing.” Revas snickered, “I’ll let you know if that bizarre phenomenon happens if they ever put up a statue of me. Although I have the distinct feeling mine might somehow keep getting set on fire, strange.”

The three of them dipped into Varric’s stash of courage as they put off talking about the vast volumes of unpleasantness they all carried. Hawke gushed about Fenris, and before she knew it the two of them teamed up against her to divulge more about her and Solas. She confessed a bit more as Hawke sighed “Ah lithe elven men, so adept at stealing our poor hearts.” She snorted, “Well mine can do that literally but that’s beside the point.” Varric only smiled as he wrote, and she was certain he never left his desk without something to write on at this point. It reminded her of her conversation with Solas, so she told him what he should name his book. He’d genuinely laughed, coaxing her to recant the events of the day that had prompted it. She actually felt better having spilled everything to them, hearing in return Hawke’s own struggles with her companions. It was nice to know that it wasn’t just her, that being friends with people was just some innately difficult thing at times. It was also nice to know Hawke felt the same as she did when it came to being worshipped as some hero. She felt a little less lonely. The woman was an absolute riot, it was perhaps the only reason they managed to stay lighthearted as she finally dropped her gravely concerning news about the wardens and Corypheus. It wasn’t ideal, any of it. But she felt she could handle it, any information to hasten her out of this position no matter how impossible the task seemed gave her a little bit of hope. She’d thanked both Hawke and Varric, telling them she’d head out for Crestwood as soon as she could after taking care of an issue that came up in southern Ferelden. Revas watched them depart, staring wistfully. She knew she should probably go ask Blackwall what he might know about these revelations, but she was still incensed at their earlier conversation. Besides he was always ridiculously vague about anything to do with the wardens, whatever, he could keep their secrets for now.

The sun was just beginning to set and though all she had left to visit was Bull, she couldn't stand another second reeking of wine. So she ran off across the courtyard, up through the kitchens and skirting as quickly as she could through the now busy great hall. She paused only a moment to scowl at the stubborn sword that had reappeared on the throne. Grumbling under her breath, _“I will fix you later.”_ She quickly bathed and changed into her armor before heading back to the tavern. The sun now truly set, hoping Bull would still be there, and not off tumbling half of the population of Skyhold.

She breathed a sigh when she saw that he was, and in the midst of a rambunctious story involving a giant, and a foolish noble. She waited at the bar debating whether she had time to eat before his story ended, trading pointed looks with Cabot until Bull boomed out **"Boss!"** He apparently wanted to show her something. She reluctantly followed him, her thoughts still on dinner. When he asked her to conceal her markings and put on a standard mercenary outfit she finally snapped out of it. “What? Why?”

“You’ll see Boss, trust me, it’ll be worth your time.”

She followed him warily, he stood guard while she changed behind the tavern, stashing her armor and pelt behind a stack of boxes before casting her old concealment spell over her face. “UGH Bull, who’s armor is _this_? It smells awful.” He at least had the grace to look apologetic as he led her around the upper courtyard where soldiers tended to gather after dark, rather than overcrowd the tavern. She said little as Bull poked them for their opinions. It was vaguely disconcerting. She had a feeling this was supposed to help her somehow, but it only ended up making her feel worse. She what… wasn’t even a person to them? Just an idea? Once she’d followed him back to where her armor was stashed she asked him, “Why show me they don’t even think of me as a person?” He grunted, “Hmmm I would have thought you’d have picked up on it. If you’re an idea to them, you don’t _have_ to be a person for them. Being an idea gives you power, leverage.”

“Bull, I don't want to be a leader. I don’t want this power.” 

“That's why it's good on you Boss. You didn't seek it out, it sought you. You'll do fine.”

She sighed, thanking Bull nonetheless, even if it did confirm her fears. Perhaps it had merit though. If they thought of her as a person- with flaws and fears, if they knew _her_ … surely they wouldn’t flock to their cause as readily as they did. She thought long on both sides of that battle as she changed back into her own armor and dispelled the concealment, before handing off the smelly garments to Bull, informing him he should burn it at his earliest convenience.

She hid underneath her pelt as she slunk towards the normally vacant top floor of the tavern. She hoped for respite yet Cassandra was tearing the second floor apart trying to get to Varric. Apparently the Seeker had found out about the Champion. She groaned loudly clutching her face before trying to diffuse the situation as neutrally as possible. She had no doubt Varric did what he thought was best, yet she could understand the Seeker’s anger… if Cassandra had gotten the Champion she wouldn’t have been needed. Yet to put all that weight on Hawke, it didn’t sit well with her, especially not after hearing the weariness she was becoming intimately familiar with in the other woman’s voice. It was a selfish thought that drove straight at the heart of her current misery. 

She weighed the day’s events as Cassandra finally stalked off. It had definitely come down on the bad day side of things.

Revas caught the attention of a bar maid as she ordered a small dinner and several drinks before finally trudging up the last flight of stairs where the top floor was perfectly vacant. She sat on the edge of the floor, letting her legs hang over as she ate in silence, feeling firmly in the realm of unsettled. She didn’t like the fact she was only an idea to them. It felt one step away from being changed, altered and forgotten. Or killed, she’d seen ideas die without remorse, but a person? She didn’t know how to change it, or if she should. If the idea was what they needed who was she to say differently. What was it she needed? What could she do to be okay with this, with being trapped? She sighed long… the only thing that would make her feel better about being trapped was escaping, and she couldn’t do that until the plots against Thedas were settled, until that disastrous future could be averted. A small voice in her ear told her it wasn’t so different than being the _Shadow of the Marches_ , yet she hadn’t known that’s what she was at the time and she had only been responsible for herself, not the fate of nations. It was all so much to handle, being their leader, all the reports, and the decisions. The weight of any potential failures would be all on her. It was already on her, that future wasn't some bad dream, it had real effects... That it had been allowed to happen... That so many had died... That _he_ had died. It was a memory she just could _not_ shake. 

Her thoughts converged on the unanswered decision of their bonding. It felt wrong to let him take such a large risk, yet she'd never known him to do anything without great thought, well except the act itself. If he hadn't decided to release her already, surely he must want this? Could everything work out somehow? She sulked in the wake of all the questions, all the unknowns. She was tired of questions without answers. 

She was verging on drunk when she wished her strange dreams would show her the way. Wishing they had rejected her when they found out she was a mage. It would have made things so much simpler. She barely registered the door to the battlements opening and shutting quietly. The sight of him standing there, the slight smile on his face as he took in how much of a mess she surely was, it warmed her. She had forgotten she had asked him to seek her out earlier. Though, it did nothing to mute her surprise. He never came to the tavern. Undoubtedly the turmoil of her thoughts had already informed him much of where her mind was at as he closed the distance, silent question in place.

“They’re not supposed to die for me. I’m supposed to save them, not lead them to their deaths. It’s going to be _impossible_ ,” she knew she was verging on dramatic as she threw her hands up emphatically, “It’s already like trying to herd cats!”

He chuckled lightly as he settled down at her back, dangling his legs over the edge, framing hers. He captured her in a loose embrace. “You once told me of what you said to those prisoners on the boat, freedom is sometimes bloody, Revas. If they believe your cause is just and their lives are spent to obtain a better future, surely it is worth the cost.”

A slightly morose mood settled over her at his answer. She had said that, but could she believe it? There was wisdom in his words, it was… unexpectedly relieving. Maybe he was right. A long sigh escaped her followed by a lighter-hearted grumbling than usual as she turned to face him. The slight concern on his face was at odds with the underlying warmth she felt.

“I may have shouted at Blackwall that I was your Herald. I was angry with him, but I don’t think he believed me.”

A mischievous smile curled his lips, his teeth bared in a genuine grin, “So I heard.”

His pride for her was felt so strongly through their bond she couldn’t help but grin in return. A sudden desire took her as she drunkenly pulled her pelt off and carefully draped it over his head, arranging it about his shoulders. She sat back slightly to admire the effect. He looked, well, he looked like he was _hers_. “Mmmm.” She nodded ardently, “Oh yes, that’s a good look on you.” There was a heavy significance on his face as he reached up, attempting to return her pelt to her, she swatted his hands away. “Shh no, you look cold. If you’re warm I’ll be warm.” She settled back down into the hollow of his legs, grabbing up his arms and draping them around herself. He couldn’t help the smile that came as he buried his face in her hair.

\---

She fell soundly asleep in his arms, despite the persistent hoots and whistles that drifted up from below, no doubt many there knew exactly who’s bare feet hung over the edge. Her pelt smelled strongly of her. He’d attempted to return it to her; it was too much like the mantle he’d worn in his prideful youth. Yet her scent was evocative, calling up their rather intimate dreams. He found he didn’t have the will to press the issue. The warmth in her body called to him. The sight of his _vhenan_ , his mate, so strong- so used to enduring pain, completely relaxed in his arms? It was utterly fascinating that she could be so at peace with him and him alone. It reminded him of the first time he'd held her in such a way after she’d fallen out of the fade, when she was more of a mystery, just a woman bearing his markings, his anchor. And now she anchored him in truth. His little wolf- the woman who unraveled when met with his gaze, the woman who snuck up to steal his heart.

A voice on the edge of hearing whispered, “Bonded bound, freer when he’s close. Small strings singing sentiments. He calls her his wolf, yet he means his heart.” A pause hung in the air as he considered the words, her thoughts? “She hurts, they all treat her differently now, she can only be herself with you. You should tell her, she wants to help.”

He sighed, a spirit of Compassion it seemed. “It’s not that easy,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

After much time spent just breathing in her scent he shifted Revas across his lap, careful not to wake her as he swept her up in his arms. Tucking her tight against his chest as he stood, he weighed his options. He should leave the way he came, it was the wiser option and less likely to garner attention. Yet draped as he was in her pelt, even as she was draped across his arms, it brought on a fervent, prideful urge to stride out of the tavern in front of everyone who remained. He weakly reasoned that the many doors would be difficult to manage with his hands full, and that most of the patrons had left since she had fallen asleep. Yet he knew the real reason, after the rumor followed by her confession of her declaration on the battlements, he felt he could hardly deny upping the gesture. He couldn’t help but desire that all know who she gave her heart to. Before he realized it his steps were already leading him down the flights of stairs. The old predatory grace in his stride came easy as heads turned. The murmur of quiet conversations fell silent as he passed. A wicked grin stole across his features almost unbidden when the whispers grew as he stalked out into the night.

By the time he reached the great hall he was still trying to decide where to _leave_ her for the night, his thoughts shuddering around the word. He couldn’t bring himself to carry her to her room, it was too private and there was no telling what he’d do with her all to himself, conversely he didn’t think he could bear to part with her touch, as innocent as it was in her unconsciousness. In his hesitation he hadn’t noticed Varric gawking at him.

“Oho! Now that’s _too_ good, I’d never have come up with that.”

Solas cringed inwardly. Perhaps more attention than he had bargained for. In his haste to seek solitude he found his steps already leading to the rotunda. He paused briefly in surprise as the dwarf jumped to his feet, hastening to open the door for him. “Thank you Varric.”

“No, thank _you_ Chuckles, You’ve just made this hell of a day worth it.”

The light laugh of his namesake was his only reply as he made his retreat, thankful that Varric generously closed the door behind him. Muffled musings of “Sweeping, check.” as he crossed the room.

He settled them down on the couch, making short work of Revas’ armor, relieved she still wore something underneath it. He gently laid her down before pulling his tunic off over his head, settling down behind her, pulling his furs up over them. He laid her pelt over top it all. A small sigh escaped him as he tucked her up under his chin, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close as he reveled in her warmth. He considered seeking out her dreams, yet with the impending trip to set out on in the morning he restrained his desire. He’d want time and privacy to truly take her, and he knew he wouldn’t be contented with dreams. He desired to feel her in reality. She giggled under her breath “A bucket can’t be a mount Sera, no matter how much cheese you ate.” He stifled a laugh. Yes, perhaps it’s best he avoid her dreams.

* * *

She woke to noise, a _lot_ of noise. Was it always so noisy where she slept? She generally picked quiet places. Wherever it was she ended up it was terribly lumpy. She nuzzled her face in deeper as she squirmed to get more comfortable; a soft moan, a barely restrained hitch of hips, a prodding at her stomach in response to her efforts. A small gasp fell from her lips as she froze. She tentatively opened an eye to a furry cocoon; she definitely was not in the kitchens, or the tavern. Wondering how she managed to get here, clearly sprawling on top of Solas at that. The heat pouring off him, his bare chest under her, the uh… Oh, that explains the uh… ah yes, lumpy, she thought let’s just stick with that. She realized most of her armor was off, down to the sleeveless tunic and thin leggings she wore under the scalemail. Tentatively, she reached a hand out to lift up the fur she was buried under, attempting to find his face. A hand grasped hers, “Shhhhh, wait a moment.”

“Solas, have you seen the Inquisitor?” Revas listened intently, it was muffled but it sounded like Josephine.

“The _Inquisitor_? Not since yesterday, No.” She held back a snort at his deliberate wording.

“Isn’t that hers?” She could practically hear the ambassador’s eyebrow arching.

“Ah this? Apparently I looked cold.”

“Well, when you see her please tell her I need to speak with her before she leaves.”

She waited until the footsteps receded and Solas squeezed her hand, pulling back the furs so he could see her face. “Ah there you are. The ambassador is looking for you.” She laughed quietly, mirth shaking her form as Solas suddenly stiffened beneath her, the smile on his face falling into an intent look of want. “OH.” She bit down on her laughter immediately, it was making things worse. She started to roll off him when his hands caught her arms, gently holding her in place. The look of longing, the desire in their bond made her breath catch in her throat. He gently pulled her up his body. She sucked in a moan biting her lip in her attempt to stifle it as she felt his rock hard length settle between her thighs, brushing against her thinly clothed sex. He was so close, his lips slightly parted as she stared. It wouldn't take much to close the distance. Her hands slid up his chest, caressing his neck as they came to rest on either side of his jaw. His arms tightened around her pulling her closer as she leaned in.

Dorian whistled down at them.

The spell was broken at once as the both of them flushed. His hands reluctantly released her as she rolled off him, hiding her mortification in the furs.

“Oh don't stop on my account. That was actually quite touching.”

“Shut up Dorian.” She grumbled.

“Well, if you two love birds are finished I do believe we have a positively _lovely_ mire to go trudge through.”

She'd have liked nothing better than to call off the whole trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else sometimes imagine that Solas operates by old-fashioned vampire rules? You let him in once, and that’s it. I’d read the hell out of that AU.
> 
> Pretty sure the statue on the Kirkwall docks isn’t Hawke, per se, but it’s my own personal head canon that they butcher her likeness. 
> 
> Next up, fallow mire.
> 
> Merax the wise. No one was quite sure where he got that title, few even knew what the man looked like. Some said he was the relation of a disgraced Magister, some said he _was_ a disgraced Magister. His name affixed to many translated works found outside the Imperium. Works the official printers never would have let slip through their presses- ranging from bawdy tales to diaries of important figures far too incriminating to let out into the world- to carefully guarded arcane knowledge that should be secure in the arcane vault of the grand library of Minrathous. No one knew how the man managed to procure the original works he translated, but one thing was for certain- his published works have significantly shaped how the Imperium is viewed by the rest of Thedas.


	16. In Which Freedom Finally Saw Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing hurts, freeing fears. Facets emerge as a wolf is smitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha you get Fallow Mire! Sorry, gratuitous yet hopefully somewhat tasteful smut next chapter.
> 
> Gods I really need to get around to editing this chapter.

She reluctantly climbed out from under the furs, hesitating a moment to rest her hand to the side of Solas’ cheek. Her look a silent promise for later, one he returned with equal intent. Dressing in her armor quickly, if she was going to grab breakfast and talk to Josie before they needed to head out then she had to hurry. She grabbed up her pelt before heading to the great hall, settling it over her shoulders, smiling when she realized it smelled faintly of Solas. She had no doubt he would need a few moments to collect himself, lest he get more unwanted attention from the second floor. She left the rotunda throwing him a wink.

Josie wasn’t mad, per se, but the ambassador was clearly unhappy about her impromptu blasphemy from the battlements. Revas tried explaining herself, yet the ambassador dismissed her reasons. “This is important Inquisitor, losing your anger is one thing, but shouting sentiments like that could hurt the Inquisition’s efforts, your efforts.” Her face softened a bit, “Please, just try to restrain your colorful insults until you’re sure no one can hear you.” Revas sighed heavily, she hadn’t intended to make Josie’s job more difficult; she’d have to get her all the fancy pens. “I’m sorry Josie, it probably won’t happen again.” A small laugh fell from the Antivan’s lips, “I guess that’s the best we can hope for, though we will have much work to do on your, colorful speech, before we secure an invitation to the Winter Palace.” Revas’ face scrunched up at that, “UGH.” Josephine chuckled, “Precisely, between you and Cassandra we will have our work cut out for us.” 

\---

It took him longer than he would’ve liked to clear his thoughts; he’d also much rather have been able to indulge in them. It certainly hadn’t helped that her scent still clung to him, facilitating the multiple replays of that moment over and over in his mind. The way her gaze fell to his lips, that soft breathy moan of hers. He wanted nothing more than to coax more of them from her. Yet they both had duties to attend to, it was a thought that sobered him rather quickly. A long sigh escaping him, he pushed his thoughts away as he finally set about getting dressed, gathering up everything he would need to bring with him. 

\---

When she came around the corner from Josie’s office trotting into the great hall from her quick trip to the kitchens she noticed that Solas, Dorian, Bull _AND_ Varric were looking thick as thieves huddled together over his table. She stopped short, trying to pick apart what could cause such an unlikely meeting. A pastry hung half out of her mouth, momentarily forgotten as she narrowed her eyes. No, this couldn’t be good at all. Yet they didn’t seem to be picking on Solas, no, they _all_ seemed to be in on whatever was going on. She shoved the rest of the pastry in her mouth as she crept up to them, hoping to hear whatever they were whispering about. Bull cleared his throat and the others looked up. Damnit, so much for that. “Soooooo… what’d I miss?” It came out a little sharper than she intended probably missing nonchalant by a league settling somewhere in the vague territory of intimidation instead. She went with it. 

Varric interjected before the others could open their mouths, “We were just arranging the next game of Wicked Grace, Trickster you in?” Oh that liar, that answer was too smooth by half. “Sure, count me in. I’ve got to earn back my dignity somehow.” She shot a pointed look at Solas, a small grin creeping up his face. Bull was inscrutable as ever, yet Dorian looked rather pleased at something. Perhaps she’d have to single him out when he least expected it. Varric’s grin seemed to have a slightly fixed strain to it, a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. She contented herself to staring him down intently, settling her face into a neutral mask. 

Their silent standoff continued uninterrupted while she shoved another pastry into her mouth. Unblinkingly, she was aware in her peripheral that Dorian had shifted to stand behind Bull, and the grin on Solas’ face was growing. Bull cleared his throat and she snapped her gaze up to him, he almost concealed a flinch. A wild grin donned her features almost unbidden. 

Varric cleared his throat nervously, “Uh need something else? Trickster? Aren’t you headed off to find more missing scouts?” She made a muffled noise of assent, “Actually yes, there is something you could do for me… well kinda for me.” She let them all off the hook, for now, aware that Solas was hovering somewhere around pride and approval again, she’d have to try to ply _him_ for information later. Not that he was likely to actually give it judging by their combined deflection. She dropped her voice as she asked Varric about his romance serial. Suggesting that if he wrote the next novel in the series it would get him back into Cassandra’s good graces, he was incredulous but he set upon the idea eagerly. She strode out the great hall shoving the final pastry in her mouth as she headed to the stables, allowing herself to be a little smug. She still had it. 

Her pack and weapons already tied to her hart, she turned as Bull’s heavy footfalls drew near. “Boss, you stare at anyone else like that and you’ll have them spilling their guts in terror. How’d you learn to intimidate like that?”

She gave a half-hearted shrug as she climbed up onto the saddle. “Oh I dunno Bull, maybe if you tell me what you guys were _really_ talking about I’ll tell you about it. It’s a fairly interesting story if I do say so myself.” He chuckled, “Not on my life Boss.” 

Watching passively as the rest of her companions got themselves ahorse, she noted that Dorian was definitely smirking less, though Solas was undoubtedly making up for it on his behalf. Perhaps this trip wouldn’t be nearly as abysmal as she feared. 

\-------

He immensely enjoyed watching her mind work. At one time he had wished she’d voice more of her questions, yet watching her unravel puzzles silently was far more satisfying than he could have imagined. Though those same tells as each gear caught and spun, as each new piece fell into place in her thoughts, were precisely why she would never beat him at Wicked Grace. Though, she was more than welcome to try. As they traveled his eyes rarely left her in his usual fashion, the world around them falling away as his sight was filled with her. 

\------- 

They had made good time coming down from the mountains, skirting the Hinterlands to strike straight towards Fallow Mire. It was their last day of easy travel before entering the mire proper. They camped well outside its borders for the night, taking advantage of perhaps the last truly dry ground for miles. In the morning they would seek out the Inquisition’s forward camp in the area, and hopefully get more information on the state of things. 

Dorian looked on incredulously as Revas immediately scarfed down her dinner before it even had a chance to cool. “How…” His words failed him as she cast a healing spell over her mouth, before digging in to a second helping. “Oh of course, silly me.” Bull chuckled, and she was certain even Solas was mildly amused. She finished long before anyone else, casting another healing spell for good measure as she fell back to the grass. Looking upside down at Solas as he ate at a leisurely pace, she could practically hear him chide her with that slightly reproving look. She waved him off “I know I know… I’m impatient, but I was also desperately hungry.” 

Dorian fired shots, “Impatient? Did you even taste it?” 

“I did and it was delicious,” she replied stiffly. “Thank you for cooking Dorian.”

“Yes, well… Fine, you’re welcome.”

Bull interjected, “He’s just nervous, don’t mind him.”

“Nervous? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am _not_ nervous.” The mage visibly wilted as Bull leaned closer to him, “No? Not too afraid to share a tent tonight?” Dorian crossed his arms, “I will be perfectly fine with the arrangement so long as you stay on your side.” Revas’ eyebrow shot up as she leaned up on her elbows to watch the increasingly tense exchange as Bull retorted, “I didn’t move an inch, if you recall I found you tucked up next to me. Not the other way around.” She whistled low as Dorian shot up, calling over his shoulder “Well maybe if you weren’t so bloody warm!” He disappeared into their shared tent as Revas shot Bull a questioning glance. Bull shook his head before tapping his temple, “He’ll be fine, he’s just working through some stuff.” She shrugged her acquiescence as she lay back down wondering if that was about what she thought it was. Hoping Dorian would be alright. After some time had passed Bull finally stood to retire for the night, she and Solas shared a look as the Qunari disappeared into his tent, before setting about to prepare for their watch. 

They often took their watches together when they could, despite how tired it sometimes made her to pull a double shift. This night they lucked out however, it was her night off and Solas had first watch. She was ecstatic to actually get a good night’s sleep. Solas was off setting wards around the camp perimeter as she finished clearing their dishes. It was an unusually dangerous place to set camp with little to no cover other than the stunted trees they hobbled their mounts to. Yet as they settled down comfortably next to one another it was peaceful. Nothing moved out in the dark but the slow wheeling of the stars across the sky. By the end of his watch she was falling asleep against him. He nudged her in the direction of their tent with a smile as he strode off to wake Dorian. 

\---

She was fast asleep long before he settled into his bedroll next to her. He whispered against her temple, “Sleep well vhenan.” 

Hours later he woke sharply as she thrashed in his embrace. Wrapping his arms around her tighter as he focused, keeping his grasp gentle yet firm to hold her as still as possible while he probed their bond. He felt it, powerful, foreign yet strangely familiar, and ancient. He had wondered if the missing scouts would trigger a dream from her strange spirit guide. The slight existence of it ghosting over her much stronger presence was undeniable. It was objectively fascinating, yet he knew she would soon wake distraught and disoriented like before. He prepared to release her as her dream waned, her sleep becoming more fitful. 

She bolted upright, panting “Trapped… Must… Get. Free.” Her hands went to her forehead as she shook, trying to clear the dream. He sat up, gently pulling her against his chest. “Where…!?” she looked wholly feral until her surroundings finally registered. “Shhh little wolf. You are not trapped.” He felt a breath rush out of her as she relaxed minutely in his arms. “The scouts?” he questioned, “How urgent?”

“They are alive still,” she took a deep breath, “And treated fairly from what I saw. Though we are still a few days out from their location, I think.”

She was on fire. He cast a slight spell for ice, trailing a hand down her overheated skin, following the curve of her neck as she shuddered. Letting the spell fade as his hand came to rest over her heart, feeling the frantic pulse slow down to a steadier rhythm. “Do I have to worry about chasing you into the night?” He murmured into her ear, “As fascinating a hunt that would be, I doubt the terrain lends itself well to such, endeavors.”

A breathy chuckle fell from her lips as she sank further against him. “No, I won’t need to run off this time so long as we don’t linger here tomorrow.” She yielded to him fully as he guided them to lie back down. She huffed, “I had been hoping for a peaceful night’s rest.” He smiled against her neck as he weighed his options, deciding he could behave for her tonight, “Seek me out, little wolf. Nothing will disturb your dreams while you dream of me.” He could feel her smile in the way she plucked the strings between them as she yawned sleepily. “Mmmm, I like the sound of that.”

\-------

It was shaping up to be exactly as abysmal a trip as she feared.

Their shared dream was the last highpoint in the trip. It had been a peaceful repose. He’d lain next to her in their usual clearing, pointing out all the constellations teaching her their elvhen names, which lead him to divulge his desire to teach her their language. She had enthusiastically agreed. 

Yet even the excitement of that proposition dimmed once they realized precisely what the Fallow Mire held in store for them. No, it wasn’t enough that there was a group of Avvar holding their scouts hostage just to lure her to some absurd fight of god vs. god, there were also multitudes of undead and weak spots in the veil to contend with. Not to mention the passive local fauna that was absolutely uninterested in anything until a stray fire spell, or glancing greatsword blow flew their way, then all their single minded fury broke loose. 

Between that and the constant humidity and occasional rain the four of them were relatively miserable. It was the Storm Coast all over again, except she was glad Solas was with her this time. Though she soon rethought even that sentiment when the sniping began, all civility flew out the window. 

Solas berated Bull about the Qun, Bull argued with Dorian about their respective nation’s war, and Dorian had some quite interesting remarks on Solas’ attire. She’d chuckled unbidden at the ‘Apostate Hobo’ remark before shooting Solas an apologetic look, “If it’s any consolation I rather like your look.” It was the comment that doomed her neutrality as Dorian responded “You would, you two must shop at the same stores.”

She'd scoffed at that. “You try being an exile for a decade, and keep up on the latest fashions.” He'd donned a mockingly affronted look, “I _never_ go out of fashion. And correct me if I’m wrong but you are no longer in exile, you _could_ dress more befitting your station.” She let out a short bark of a laugh, “If you had seen the clothes my station afforded me, I highly doubt you would encourage that.” 

The second night of slogging through the undead infested swamp had put everyone in a sour mood, though thankfully comments were at a minimum as they cut down wave after wave of dead. Bull had broken the relative silence, “Boss why can't you take me anywhere nice for once?” It set her laughing for the first time that day. “Bull, I'll take you somewhere nice when they discover whether or not it actually exists.” Dorian interjected, “What about dry? I would settle for dry.” There was a long pause, “Or quiet, at least you don’t have to share a tent with this snoring heathen.”

She laughed again “As if it's any better in our tent? We can still hear him.” 

A long silence followed them as they trudged closer to the derelict keep. Solas unexpectedly broke the silence this time, “Bull, how do your people put on shirts?”

 _That_ conversation buoyed her all the way through the Avvar up to the keep where her challenger was waiting.

\---

At least they all fought well together. She and Solas practically moved as one on the battlefield. It had been impartially interesting at first, but it soon became a startlingly intimate dance, their bond affording much more awareness in the heat of battle than she thought possible. They made short work of the Avvar leader’s people, though their dance left her wanting. If not for the undead lurking below the depths she would have chanced the waters just to cool down. Despite the obvious animosity between the others it was a good team. She hoped their opinions wouldn't hurt their dynamic. She struck the killing blow to the so called Hand of Korth, thankful for Solas’ barriers as she had several near misses with that maul of his. She didn’t need an _exact_ repeat of the storm coast. 

They looted the castle, uncovering several odd collections of artifacts as well as some interesting Grey Warden effects in their search for the captives. They'd all been relieved to have finally found the missing scouts, alive, most unharmed even. Though she was relieved most of all, the steadily increasing weight in her chest lifted at the sight of them. They elected to return under their own power. The Avvar priest that had watched her close rifts had even joined their cause. He was an interesting sort she decided. She'd asked him several questions in camp that night, taking the opportunity to learn about him and his interesting beliefs before he would have to set off to settle his affairs come morning. She'd handed him a map of where Skyhold lay just to be sure he’d have no trouble. His views on spirits in particular piqued her interest. It was strikingly similar to things Solas had told her, although the bigger picture of it was undoubtedly different. She thought his lady of the skies was fascinating. Bull and Dorian had retired for the night when the conversation turned to her.

“You don’t look like a lowlander. Much less like a lowlander god-herald.”

She shrugged, “Perhaps I’m not what they think. I don’t have a land, and their god is not _mine_. She plucked the strings of their bond as the word drifted from her lips. A small smile her only acknowledgement as she continued, “I’ve gone where I’ve been welcomed, and left as soon as I wasn’t. It’s even led me to other Avvar in the past.”

She recanted the only time she met Avvar before. She'd been prowling as a wolf through the highlands along the southeast flank of the Frostbacks, trying to find a land not so ravaged by blight. She'd accidentally stumbled too close to their camp, getting stuck in a snare when the camp shaman had found her. He'd warily told her that he had a dream about her. That the lady of the skies had shown him one of her own was trapped; needed freeing. He'd bandaged her paw, and hoped she would show them her favor. That night she'd ranged far and hunted down a healthy deer and dragged it to their hold. Despite her own hunger she left it in the middle of their camp, bowing low to the hungry eyes that peered out of huts at her, before she stole away into the night once more. Though as she thought about it, she wasn’t sure what compelled her that it had been the right course of action. Perhaps there was more to that interaction than she remembered as well. She did remembered thinking fondly of this lady of the skies though, whether she really watched out for her or not. 

Sky Watcher had expressed interest in her ability so she quietly checked to make sure her companions were still asleep before shifting to her wolf form. And she'd thought the swamp smelled foul before. It was almost overwhelming with a more sensitive nose. He'd stared at her long, yet kept most of his thoughts to himself, declaring “The Lady of the Skies does favor you.” 

She was left to ponder the meaning behind that as Sky Watcher turned in for the night to his bedroll under the stars. She stayed in the form for a time as Solas idly stroked behind her ears. It was a pleasant feeling. Though the urge to run wild through the night became overwhelming, and she soon shifted back. She missed the freedom of running wild. Perhaps when she returned to Skyhold she could sneak out at night. If she was careful she wouldn't get caught. 

\-------

As they approached Skyhold it was apparent that the remainder of the rebel mages had finally arrived, as well as the rest of the Inquisition’s horses. They were stabled in the green valley below the glacier, a small town forming there on the banks of the glacial river that served as a way point as traffic to Skyhold grew.

\---

She reluctantly dropped off the Grey Warden ‘junk’ she found. Of course Blackwall was snide about it, “Oh I would’ve liked to have been there when you found this…” She narrowed her eyes, “Yes well, had I known they would be there then I would’ve brought you. As it was I decided to just bring them back instead of arranging to slog through the mire AGAIN just for you to pick them up.” He gave her a puzzled look, “If I’ve offended you M’Lady…” She cut him off, “Yes, you did and I am no one’s _lady_. I am Revas, I am a _Person_ , not an idea. All I want is to be treated like one.” She turned and left, heading back towards the upper courtyard. Hoping against hope the growing row between Solas and Vivienne didn’t need her intervention. Sighing heavily, it seems it did. 

 

“He can cause people to forget him or fail entirely to notice him. These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems Cole is a spirit.”

Vivienne cut in, “It is a Demon.”

She watched the showdown with unease as Cassandra interjected her own opinions on the matter, mulling over his words… her mind sticking on forgetting. Wondering, Could it be possible? Could spirits cause people to forget? Had a spirit made _her_ forget?

Solas shot a thinly veiled condescending look at Vivienne. “If you prefer, although the truth is somewhat more complex. In fact his nature is not so easily defined. He has possessed nothing and no one.” He turned to her suddenly, “It seems he has taken a liking to you Revas.”

“Wait, Cole… the man from the gate at Haven?”

“The same.”

“He seems… familiar. Where is he now? I’d like to talk to him myself.” She spied the young man stalking through the wounded laid up across the courtyard. 

She listened to his thoughts spoken aloud, the thoughts of the soldiers? It was intensely uncomfortable to know, yet, strangely comforting to observe. “It’s alright she won’t remember me.” Words stuck in her throat at the admission as he knelt down to a dying soldier. “The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, considering the odd man before her, the soldier in pain. She knew she should give the man a chance to heal, yet… she thought of her dreams. The singlemindedness she went into when freeing captives, perhaps it wasn’t too different? Death was… a different kind of freedom. She inclined her head, “Alright, Help him.” She watched as life fled from the man, the spirit more at peace than before. 

“I want to stay.”

She smiled at him, “I’d like you to stay, to help. You’ve been helping me too haven’t you?”

“You have little hurts, and old hurts. The little ones are easy to fix.” 

“Do… spirits make people forget often?”

“Maybe.”

Well that wasn’t helpful she thought. “I know” he replied, “Sorry.”

“What can you tell about me?”

“You’re too bright. Like counting birds against the sun, but there's something more, past it, reaching across, more of yourself? Are you like me? Did you make a body? Oh, I'm making it worse. I'm sorry.”

She was stricken, teetering on the edge of panic. What did that mean? Make a body, did he just call her a spirit? She sucked in a breath as she shot him a searching look, trying to force a calm she didn’t feel. “Please don’t make me forget, Cole.” 

“No. That wouldn’t help. Forgotten, falling, faltering. You want to remember. Thoughts slipping through your fingers. Memorizing details no one else notices. Aching pit… Ooh.” He disappeared for a moment, promptly returning with a bottle of wine and a sandwich. “Does this help?”

The startled laugh escaped her unbidden. “Actually, yes Cole that does help. Thank you.” 

\---

She left the strange boy to his helping, trusting that a spirit so kind and caring had to mean well. Plus he brought her food, he was as good as they come in her mind for that alone. At least she now knew where the mysterious tray of cheese rolls came from. Climbing the steps of the battlements to find a place to eat and think in solitude; there was a likely spot in an abandoned tower with a nice view of the valley through a hole in the wall. 

She let out a long sigh as she settled down on the floor, legs dangling out the side of the tower as she ate. Musing about what the spirit boy had just told her. Perhaps she knew other spirits? Something had made her forget before, perhaps several times… she wondered why. Was it innocent like Cole or was what happened to her so terrible it was best that she’d forget? And what exactly was that about there being more of herself? She thought back to closing the breach, she had felt like that… was that what he’d picked up on? Was the bright light the anchor or the breach? She didn’t know how Solas did it, conversing with spirits was exhausting. Her thoughts of him drew her attention to their bond. He was close by, seeking her out. 

When he finally crested the stairs of the tower she’d long finished her sandwich, offering up the bottle of wine to him. He offered her his hand in return. She took it as he helped her stand, wondering how much he guessed at her current thoughts. The warmth in his features was reassuring in the face of her old doubts. “Cole is welcome to stay,” she ventured, “Though he said things…” 

“I had guessed. Come, let us talk, preferably somewhere more interesting than this.” She chuckled as he presented his arm, winding hers through his, “Preferably somewhere warmer as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's technically still my Friday, that counts right?
> 
> Gods I hate bogfishers. Is that apparent? I hope that's apparent. It's probably equally apparent I don't care for Blackwall's sass. UGH I just wanna pick the thing up and not come back for it later! Deal with it Blackwall. 
> 
> I really wanted to drag out illusive spirit Cole, but then I also want to stick to mostly cannon. I should've done that part more justice, but I don't wanna edit this for another week. Plus I have the sneaking suspicion there's now a continuity error somewhere... *narrows eyes*
> 
> BTW this is mostly tagged slightly AU because it’s Alternate Universe – no such thing as morning breath.  
> Not really, but kinda.


	17. In Which A Courtship Was Consummated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their steps come together. A crescendo. The interlude of innocent intent.
> 
> Consummation of courtship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say this would be tasteful? Well, I'll let you be the judge, I'm not sure you can trust me to know what that word means after chapter 10. No wolves this time I swear, though several goats were harmed in the making of this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Bye bye canon for a bit. ie. I re-purpose in game conversations to suit my whims.
> 
> 4/9 + 1394 words [nothing too exciting mostly shoved bits from old chapter 18 in here] would have been longer but I minused some words to shorten long winded descriptions.

She followed him through Haven as he walked without haste through the eerily empty village. There was something both unsettling and comforting about being here- yet she couldn't decide on why exactly she felt that way, or _how_ exactly they had gotten here. The thought slipped away as Solas began explaining his efforts to close the breach, how he’d kept the mark from killing her. _His_ mark- that it was magic attuned to him, and had posed a danger to her. It was an unexpectedly ominous statement, one that felt unfinished somehow. He explained how he discovered her hidden markings as she slept, and that it had sparked his interest to find out more about her. She listened with rapt attention as he answered many questions she didn’t even know she had.

“Cassandra suspected duplicity.” he stated. “She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”

She laughed lightly, remembering her own shaky interactions with the Seeker, “Oh Cassandra's like that with everyone.” 

He chuckled, and continued on, expressing his concern that she would never wake, his frustrations at being unable to discover what had taken place to put her in the center of everything. Her brows furrowed, it was a frustration she still carried personally. She was honestly surprised that everyone else seemed to have dropped the issue, trusting her implicitly. Then again, when compared to Corypheus she must look innocent indeed. Nevertheless, it was a blank stretch of time that still weighed heavily on her mind. 

Solas expressed his intent to flee, and it snapped her out of her thoughts. It was unlike him to admit defeat. “Where did you plan to go? Wouldn’t the breach eventually threaten everything?” A knowing smile curved his mouth, “Someplace far away, where I might research a way to repair the breach before its effects reached me. I never said it was a good plan.” She chuckled at the admission, pausing for a second as he walked onwards, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt _off_. Her gaze drifted up towards the sky- marred by the tempestuous green of the breach. Something about it she decided, lingering just beyond comprehension, on the tip of her tongue. 

She refocused on Solas as he spoke, listening intently as he continued, detailing his final efforts before he resigned to leave, then he turned back to face her, reiterating one of the first things he’d said to her. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” There was a different weight to his words that she had seldom heard before, undernotes of a profound hope. She had the distinct feeling more was hinging on this than he let on. 

“You had sealed it with a gesture… and right then, I felt the whole world change.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Felt the whole world change?”

“A figure of speech.” The words were deflecting, yet the genuine gladness, the eagerness present on his features was not. His warmth drew her in. “I'm more interested in _felt_ ,” she replied pouring her own sentiments into the strings that bound them to punctuate her response as she sauntered closer. 

“You change… _Everything_.”

The admission surprised her as much as his tone. She was close enough that she needed to tilt her face up slightly to meet his gaze, scant inches between them with those damnable hands behind his back. He seemed to be waiting for something, perhaps her opinion on the whole thing? What does one say to such a grand statement that you change everything? She was drawing a blank as she searched his gaze, her eyes falling to his lips. Lips that said such sweet words, she should thank them. They looked soft, inviting. Lips she should have kissed days, weeks ago. It dawned on her then just how much peril they had been in. What if she never got another chance? He had just turned away when she captured his face in her hands, turning him gently as she quickly closed the remaining distance, meeting his lips with hers. He was so _warm_ , his lips unmoving against the press of her own- quick and full of promise. She had caught him off-guard and she turned to flee in his evident hesitation, cursing herself- worried she’d overstepped his boundaries. He’d brought her here for a reason, and kissing him impulsively surely wasn’t it. 

She hadn't made it far when his arms wrapped around her, turning her towards him as he returned the gesture, consuming her with a fire that caught and intensified. He deepened the kiss immediately, swallowing her moan as his tongue rushed between parted lips. Oh he tasted divine, sweet with the tang of his magic. His hands roamed her body freely, grasping the curve of her ass as he pulled her closer against him. Feeling the taut muscles in his back flex as he devoured her, curling over her as he dipped her low, she clung to him. Her need began flooding her senses and his groan grew to a growl shaking from his throat, liberating a moan from hers. 

He broke off the kiss suddenly, “It's not right, not here,” he panted, releasing her as he set a careful distance between them. 

His admission finally broke her inability to grasp the situation as it dawned on her- here shouldn’t exist. “How are we here, this… I destroyed this!” Her eyes snapped to the sky where the breach paled at her admission. “THAT shouldn’t even be here!” He watched her expectantly. “This… this is a dream? This isn’t real?”

Another knowing smile graced his features, “That’s matter of debate… Probably best discussed when you... Wake up.”

* * *

She woke with a start. Her hands immediately went to her temples to stop the slight spin of the room, _HER_ room. How'd she get in her bed? The dream had felt real, as real as her other dreams of him and yet he'd appeared to her as himself and not the wolf, in Haven of all places. It would have been bizarre under normal circumstances, but it seemed he’d chosen… did he choose that? Was that his dream? Well, either way it seemed he’d chosen it for a reason. A long groan escaped her as her senses began to catch up.

The aching need that rocked her core made it difficult to think. It was the middle of the night and he wasn’t here. Where had he been sleeping? Was he still in the rotunda? She weighed her options, she could go find him or… she could do something drastic to bring him to her. With all he’d teased, she was done holding back. She hoped he had satisfied his whims of courtship because there wasn’t going to be an easy step back from where she was going.

A mischievous grin overcame her. She lay back down kicking off her leggings. He must've cast a spell for her to sleep she mused, she normally slept mostly naked. He had to have taken her to her bed. She wondered how he managed it; the great hall was always full of nosey onlookers these days. She let her hand drift lower, slipping into her smalls, she had been well practiced in taking her pleasure of herself, exile had been quite lonely. She called up thoughts of Solas, unabashedly filling their bond with her arousal. Deftly slipping a finger into her folds, rubbing the heel of her palm in slow circles against the small bundle of nerves as she slowly inserted another finger. She imagined his breath hot on her neck, his lips on hers, the way his muscles would strain over her as they sought their release. She felt the pressure build up inside her quickly- it had been a long time since she had bothered to seek her own release. She thought of the way his length had settled between her thighs, she imagined the press of it in place of her fingers, the way his hips would jut up against hers. She panted out his name as the first wave of her orgasm hit her, riding out the electric surge within her. She moaned long and low, shuddering as her muscles clenched around her fingers. Imagining they were his within her.

She sighed contentedly as she recovered, sweating and relaxed, though she did not truly come down. His arousal was reverberating strongly in their bond, strong enough that her need was not truly sated. She had wondered if it would have been enough to give him his release, considering how strongly it felt he must be resolutely containing himself. She reluctantly rolled off the bed to clean herself up.

She gently pulled the strings between them as she washed, he was… moving? He wasn’t stationary in the rotunda like she expected. She chuckled darkly, knowing she shouldn't play with fire; even though technically _he_ lit it. 

She plodded back to her bed burying herself in the blankets waiting to see what would happen, hoping she hadn’t crossed too far over the line.

\---

Solas woke with a smile already on his face, remembering their kiss. Though for all they had done in the fade, intentionally or not, he longed for her touch. To taste her lips in person, to hear her moans as much as feel them in response to his efforts. Despite how easy things were for him in the fade, lately he felt his little wolf beckoning him to reality more and more. He found he didn't mind so much at all, though it made him hesitant to close the distance in reality. He could afford to be impulsive in the fade. 

He had resolved to go back to sleep when he felt her desire bloom across their bond. His breath hitched, was she? He shook his head, she most certainly _was_. She was beckoning him in an _entirely_ different manner. He found himself curious at first, wondering what precisely their bond would cause him to feel, but soon it drove him weak with want. He felt his body responding quickly to her actions. He quickly got up from his couch. Oh his little wolf was playing a dangerous game indeed. 

He was thankful Skyhold was deserted this time of night as he stumbled down the stairs into the ancient wine cellar, looking for the specific vintage of wine he'd hidden away for a special occasion. An occasion such as this, he’d been on the lookout of a suitable wine since he’d bonded her in dreams. Fighting to keep the noises rising unbidden from his throat muffled as she chased her release, it would be too easy to give in. He cast an old spell upon the wine, fighting to keep his focus, imbuing the wine with his intent, the magics that would enhance sensation. He had little doubt she would accept it from his hand, yet he needed to ask. The last step in his courtship- Her explicit consent. 

When she came he felt it, sinking to one knee as he navigated the stairs back to the great hall. He was panting now. His little wolf had lunged and missed, he barely held himself back from his own release, now painfully hard. He took a deep breath and climbed the rest of the way to her quarters. 

Her door was unlocked. 

\---

She heard the slight whine of hinges as her door opened and shut, followed by the click of the lock, soft footfalls climbing her stairs. She peeked out from under her pile of blankets to see Solas less than his normally composed self, watching her.

“Little wolf” he uttered low. 

She donned a lazy grin as she unfurled herself from her blankets, still wearing her tunic and not much else. She stalked across the room, stopping a few feet away with her hands behind her back mocking his usual pose. “Good evening Solas,” she purred. 

He wore a decidedly haughty look on his face as he smirked at her. “I believe I told you to be careful what you ask for Revas.” 

She raised an eyebrow, “Oh and what is it I have asked for?” tapping a finger to her chin, recalling their earlier conversation. “It simply wouldn't do if I was uninformed.” 

“You'd do well to remember you ask for many things, it's what you'll receive that should give you pause.” 

She shuddered with anticipation watching warily as he crossed to her table, and only then did she notice the bottle of wine he carried. What was he planning? Another step in their dance? Or was he just always prepared for all possible outcomes? He poured them each a glass, swirling the contents in his own before drinking, a soft moan of pleasure escaping his mouth. Oh that mouth of his she thought darkly, she wanted it back on her. Her desire reignited and charged their bond, his full attention shifting to her once again. He turned to her with a self-assured grin, beckoning her with a glass in his outstretched hand. 

She paced towards him with carefully measured steps, keeping her distance as she accepted the glass, unsure of this new game. 

He circled her as he spoke, his voice softer than before. “Do not drink if you do not wish to be mine, Revas. It is a special kind of wine, an aphrodisiac of sorts, given to consummate a courtship. You could walk away now, and I would think no less of you. It is a step that should have been taken before bonding.” He came to a stop in front of her, the sad smile in his eyes was disarming. He brought his forehead to hers, sliding his fingers around the back of her neck, winding them lightly through her hair- as if to remind her of the damage he wrought in their last joining. “ _Ma da’fen_ , be sure you want this. I am, perhaps not the best choice of lover.” His eyes shut to his words, as if he dreaded her reaction. “You’ve seen the other side to me. The side I wish not to show. You know what could happen if I lose control.” He paused, a deep breath mingling with her shallow pant. “I cannot guarantee what the future holds for us.” 

The gravity of his words, his demeanor struck deep at her. Suddenly she grasped just why he was so upset to have bonded her impulsively. It wasn’t just the wound he inflicted, it was his uncertainty, his status and hers. He wasn’t the sort of man who could promise her forever, happy children and a home of their own. She appreciated the sentiment, the choice. But such promises had never been for her to begin with. That he thought to ask only endeared him to her more. She valued her freedom after all, he would not cage her. If that meant uncertainty, she would accept the risk. She trusted him, felt safe with him, she would stand by him.

She confidently met his gaze, her answer clear in her heart as she spoke, “I accept you Solas.” He released her, resuming his prowl as she took a tentative sip from her glass. It was good, flooding her with a pleasant heat as she lost view of him circling behind her, a soft noise of want falling from his lips. She didn’t stifle her soft moan as the heat of the wine enhanced her own. His breath fanned over her neck, voice low in her ear “And I accept you, Revas.” Her breath hitched as his desire redoubled through their bond. It almost brought her to her knees. 

She drank from the glass more deeply this time. He chuckled darkly, “Such impatience my little wolf.” 

She fought to form words through her muddled thoughts. Defiantly stating “I have been the very image of patience.” She huffed, crossing her arms. He sucked the tip of her pointed ear in his mouth, licking it gently, unraveling her stance as a moan leapt unbidden from her throat. “Patience is not what I felt through our bond, little wolf.” He gently nipped her ear, reveling in the shudder it produced. He hummed lightly “It is lucky for you I have patience enough for us both. I have no wish to hurt you, your first time should be memorable.”

She stammered through another wave of pleasure, “Y-you know?”

“That you have never taken a lover?” He eyed her intently. She nodded closing her eyes. He downed the rest of his glass of wine before answering. “It is written on your body,” his fingers ghosted down her abdomen, “It is written in your apprehension.” His breath hot on the back of her neck, he inhaled deeply, “It's even written in your scent.” 

She wasn’t sure if he was being serious or just saying things in that rough voice of his to rile her up further, but it was working. An embarrassingly wanton moan escaped her as she rubbed her thighs together, the apex of which already slick with her arousal. She wanted him to touch her, but instead he let her go. “Finish your wine Revas.” 

She did as he bade. 

He took their glasses back to the table, “To bed.” She hesitated. “You will not be able to stand for this next part,” he reasoned, stroking her with the barest caress of his magic- the ghost of it sending a shiver through her. 

She stumbled to her bed slumping down on to it. “Lay back” he uttered in an unrefined growl as he began to undress, pulling his tunic over his head, revealing his impressive form. His toned musculature belying what one would expect of a mage. She was entranced as she lay down, studying the subtle elegance of each slight movement he made. He definitely had the lean form of a rogue, and it was no longer a wonder that he had the grace to match. That's when he began to caress her with his magic in earnest. 

She cried out as she writhed, vaguely aware her movements were becoming hindered as the same magic that caressed her gently kept her still. She panted heavily as she was given a brief reprieve and as she turned to him then she understood. He wanted to keep her from closing the distance. He leaned against her desk, chest bare his arms folded across it, the smuggest smile she had ever seen donning his features. 

He slowly unlaced his tightly woven pants as she watched, revealing his startlingly hard erection. She couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of it. Long and slightly thicker than she would have guessed with a slight curve to it, to finally see it after several clothed encounters… Surely he wouldn't fit. She was no stranger to the apparent resiliency of her entrance, yet the size of him seemed vaguely impossible to her. But then all she had to go on were her fingers, and well, descriptions in Varric’s novels, but that was too embarrassing to even consider. His pursuit of her in dreams was one thing, but this? The sheer physicality of his length slightly worried her. He noticed her wide-eyed concern with a warm smile. “Do not worry my little wolf.” 

His magic made a reappearance as he took himself in hand, slowly stroking his length. The act sent fire through her core, maddening ecstasy spiraling outwards. She descended into pure want, a creature of pure sensation. It was as if his pleasure was hers. She could feel what he felt with startling accuracy. His magic began slipping through her folds, thrusting in and out at the same frustratingly slow pace as his hand, tendrils of it curling up her limbs leaving scorching trails. His gaze slackened into an expression of intense want, though he did not look away from her. She fought to hold his gaze, a quiet moan as he threatened to undo them both- bringing them to the edge only to ease up on his efforts enough to deny them release.

Coherent thought slowly fled her ability to comprehend, the muddled reality of sensation convincing her that her core was his hand, his magic his length. She felt _him_ thrust into her, hilting deep, filling her, she panted broken pleadings as he let them near their release again, the pressure within them both building. She could hear the delightful groans he made as he quickened his pace. A stream of his name on her lips punctuated by a _‘Fen'harel’_ issued forth unbidden. He thrust deep, the throb of him, his shadow bowed over her, hot breath on her neck. They cried out in tandem, his release bringing her own. Potent waves of pleasure arcing through her as she arched off the bed an unrestrained howl of his name shaking from her throat. 

Her senses slowly became her own again as the wake of pleasure abated. She could barely feel her limbs. The sheets were soaked and sticking to her skin. She felt the edge of the bed next to her dip down as Solas joined her repose, both of them utterly spent. And he hadn't even touched her. He had tricked her good, but she wasn't unhappy about it- burned indeed, and it had been the most amazing feeling, with the promise of more.

He gathered her leaden frame up in a loose embrace. She turned weakly towards him. He still looked self-satisfied, an expression enhanced as he tried to catch his breath. “How do you feel?” A truly satisfied smile lit her face, “That was a lot of firsts, Solas. Not the one I imagined, yet amazing nonetheless.” 

He chuckled. “There is time yet, we do not need to rush into more Revas.” 

She offered, “If I behave myself will you stay? I have the day off from all responsibilities tomorrow to make this...” She waved limply at the room, “More livable. I could use a hand if you're willing.” He propped himself up on one elbow, considering. He smiled as he accepted. “Very well Revas, so long as you behave.” 

She grinned, peeling herself off the bed, “Do you want a bath? I want a bath. I have my own bath up here, _WITH_ running water!” She tugged his hand. “C'mon I want to show you!” He chuckled weakly as she pulled him with her, pointing out all the potential the room had on the way. 

\--- 

She had bathed first, refilled the tub for him before setting to work making the bed useable again, discarding the damp blankets and fetching some pelts from her odd little second floor balcony where all her renovation supplies were piled. She dressed in a spare light tunic and smalls hoping he would deem that suitable. She was stoking the fire when Solas returned from his bath only wearing the towel she had left for him. 

Her eyebrows shot up. “Now who's not behaving?” He smirked “I never said anything about behaving myself, though I have nothing else to wear unless you have something appropriate?” 

She blushed “Oh, of course.” She rummaged through the wardrobe Josephine had filled with various styles of fancy clothes- most of which she hoped she would never have to wear. Settling on a pair of light loose pants made of darkened samite. She held them up for his inspection. “Those will do fine,” he moved to take them from her as she pulled them behind her, causing him step close.

He shot her a pointed look- the edges softened only by his amusement. 

Relinquishing the pants with a sigh, she turned away, looking through the rest of the odd garments in the wardrobe. Muttering “I hope Josie doesn't expect me to wear these for all those nobles that keep showing up. Where did these even come from?” She rifled further, coming across something that looked nice, definitely meant for hot weather if the obvious lack of fabric was any indicator- perhaps she could use it. “I- oh!” 

Her musing cut short as Solas embraced her from behind, leaning into him as she let him steer her towards bed. A feather-light kiss at her temple as they settled under the pelts, he held her close and she reveled in the warmth of his bare skin, valiantly fighting the urge to fidget against him. As she listened to the soft sounds of his breathing, he began to trail small shapes against her skin with his fingers. She smiled as she attempted to guess their forms, “A wolf, a star, a tree, hmmm and another wolf.” He chuckled lightly, “I was just wondering…” 

“Oh? Wondering what?”

He whispered against her neck, “What were you like before the anchor, before your markings? Have they affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your... _spirit_?” 

There was an eagerness to those questions that was hardly suitable for pillow talk. It left her wondering how long he’d had them on his mind, as she tried to consider her answer. Had she changed? She didn’t think so, she’d been forced to adapt yes, but she didn’t feel any different. She turned in his hold to face him, replying carefully, remembering her unruly youth. 

“Before the markings I was always running off, shirking my duties. I did not like the plans the clan had for me. I was far more fascinated by things in the wilds than the politics of the clan. Exploring what I could do with my magic was more important than their strict teachings to honor the past without fanciful deviation. I did not wish to be traded to another clan, to be paired off with a stranger if I did not choose someone suitable of my own volition. Their attempts to rein me in only made me fight them harder. I was not suitable to be trained as second. Much to my…” She sighed, “My father's disappointment. He would be keeper one day, and then I would have been first of the clan. Yet the current keeper announced I would be sent away at the next _Arlathvhen_.” She scowled at the memory before remembering the rest of his question.

“I think I am the same, what I've been through has forced me to adapt, but I don't believe it has changed who I am at heart. Though I will admit, if it _has_ changed me it may have escaped my notice.” It seemed to be an acceptable answer if the warmth and... _Relief?_ He exuded was any indication. Perhaps he had been bothered that the markings or the anchor had made her what she was now? That he only loved what his marks made her? 

“That is an excellent point.” He conceded not unkindly. His gaze fixed to her, he seemed to be debating asking further questions. She laughed softly.

“What would you like to know Solas? I’d rather you not be up all night thinking so loudly.” 

So he asked her questions about her former clan, what she was like growing up, questions about her magical explorations. She told him about her family as neutrally as she could. Her taciturn father, a man of Antivan descent- where she got most of her looks, her fiery mother the escaped city elf turned savage, both still alive last she knew. Though, her information was admittedly a decade old. She confirmed his wonder- if the keeper who marked her had been a close relation- her father’s mother, a lady who could be very kind, until you weren’t Dalish enough. As he watched her with a captivated gaze- she complained about the customs, especially _Arlathvhen_ , she understood the need to spread resources when necessary but the idea that people were commodities angered her to no end. It didn’t hurt so much to talk about it with him. He seemed to completely understand her reservations about the Dalish. She even told him about the time she managed to burn all her hair off when she first started conjuring fire. His eyes drifted upward and she could practically feel him imagining her without hair. 

“Oh don’t, it was awful. I lost my eyebrows too, took forever for it all to grow back.” She laughed.

He was quiet for a time before he spoke up again, “If you did not approve of the clan’s customs why did you stay? Why not leave before they marked you?”

She smiled sadly, stroking the suddenly serious lines of his face as if she could smooth away their burden on his features. “Why does anyone endure the burdens of what is familiar, rather than face the unknown? Maybe I needed the push, although had they successfully traded me I would have run off rather than suffer that indignity. Then the clan would have been forced to give back whatever they’d received for me. It would have been embarrassing for them, and I would have been free anyways.” 

His seriousness had shifted to a strange thoughtfulness, and she had the distinct feeling another puzzle piece had fallen into place. His arms wound tighter around her as he tucked her underneath his chin, a small sigh from her. Their bond thrummed with contentment. 

She drifted off comfortable in her capture, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

* * *

She awoke as the pale light of dawn was just beginning to tinge the mountains in rosy hues. An odd commotion rousing her from sleep, _Baaaaaaah_ **–Thwack-**. _Baaaah_ **–Thwack-**. She reluctantly pried herself from Solas’ grasp as he rolled over burrowing deeper under a pelt. She strode with the purpose of a storm-front to the balcony overlooking the courtyard, her grumbling heralding the potential for lightning. Vaguely thankful her current tunic was hemmed nearly at her knees. Several soldiers were peering over the battlements near the garden. She yelled down, “HEY! **WHAT. IN. THE. VOID.** IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?!” 

She cocked her head listening intently for their response. “It seems a man is throwing goats at the walls Inquisitor! What should we do about him?” She snorted, goats? Perhaps she was still dreaming.

“WHERE IS HE?!”

She watched the group of soldiers point in unison to a spot just out of sight. She gathered her mana about her, carefully focusing on the place their outstretched hands converged. She hurled all her fury at being woken so early at the spot beyond the wall, several sharp lightning strikes in quick succession sundered the otherwise peaceful morning. 

The soldiers cheered, she waved down at them halfheartedly as she turned back inside. 

Solas was sitting up, a sleepily amused expression on his face. She crawled up over him dragging the pelts with her as she pulled him back down to lay with her. “Shhhhhh. Too early.” A muffled chuckle escaped him even as she tried to cover his mouth with her hand, he relented for a time as she nuzzled closer to him. 

When next she woke the sun had begun rising in truth. Solas was climbing the stairs with a tray that looked suspiciously like breakfast balanced precariously on the sizeable crate he carried. It was unexpected enough to shake the last vestiges of sleep from her mind. 

“Sleep well?”

She smirked at him, “Which time?”

A breathy laugh tumbled from his lips as he set down his burdens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show of hands, how many people were worried about the goat comment? *snorts* I am awful.
> 
>  


	18. In Which Much Was Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories ebb and flow. The sun burns bright in the blue sky of her lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, Very NSFW. Explicit smut. Chaotic POV shifts towards the end, for reasons. Want a sfw visual? [heheheh](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/post/143312538990/mythals-mercy-i-have-got-to-stop)\- Blushing Solas with hair.

She soon learned that the sizeable crate Solas had brought up contained his paints and brushes. Yet what drew her attention was a small careworn leather journal that he tucked out of sight with a subtleness that made her wonder why he’d brought it if he didn’t want it seen. It set her curiosity loose as she watched him pull out various jars before pacing around the room, all his focus on the walls as she ate the breakfast he’d brought up. She had just resolved to investigate the crate when he abruptly returned to it, deciding on more jars and a different brush, sending her an inquisitive look. A twitch in her hastily crafted mask set a smirk on his. “I will show you later Revas. Perhaps there is something you should be doing now instead?”

She sighed, he was right after all. Curtains. She wasn’t even sure she’d scavenged enough scraps of fabric to cover all the windows. The requisitions officer had asked _’Why don’t you just put curtains on the bed?’_ And she’d been tempted, but that would only make it that much more difficult to get out of bed when everyone else wanted her to. And she didn’t fancy another glaring wake-up call from the sun. 

She reluctantly set to work dragging large piles of cloth, pelts, and various tools down from the puzzling balcony behind her bed. She hadn't quite figured out its purpose, except maybe as an excellent hiding spot or as she currently used it- storage. It seemed weird that such a lofty room had an even loftier section. She still didn't know what to do with it.

She set to work sorting oddly shaped swaths of cloth as Solas began to paint the walls, his strokes as broad as hers as she attempted to match types and colors from the myriad of scraps. The requisitions officer had also asked her why she wanted scraps and not whole bolts. She hadn't wanted to impose, nor detract sorely needed supplies away from their ever growing list of recruits. It was going to make for some terribly ugly curtains. She contemplated her dilemma as Solas slowly changed the wall behind her bed to a deep green.

As her thoughts drifted she stumbled into a memory she'd nearly forgotten. One of the first spells she'd ever cast, and the one that brought her running as fast as her little legs could carry her to her parents. To show them what she'd done. It was an odd memory, striking in its clarity for being so long ago. It felt suddenly important. Odd words echoed in her mind, _It wants to be orange, you could help it._

She shook her head trying to focus on the present. The rest of that memory hadn't been a particularly happy one. Yet it had given her the answer she sought. Picking up a scrap she focused on the deep green of the wall. Willing the fabric to accept the color she desired. She felt the color in her thoughts swirl and drain with the spell and she tentatively opened her eyes. A broad smile lit her face to see that it had worked. The odd bit of fabric was now as green as the wall. Though she had to admit, white was an easy thing to change. She picked up a lurid yellow patterned scrap and tried again. She had focused on the same color yet the result was a slightly different shade of green, though- it had a pleasing effect. A small noise of approval caught her attention, looking up as she noticed Solas had stopped painting to watch.

He regarded her curiously, an eager intent thrummed across their bond, “That is an unusual spell.”

"Is… it?" She had to admit, it wasn’t something she’d seen anyone else do. Not even after she had tried to show the clan how it worked.

His scrutiny intensified as he paced towards her, crouching down in front of her. His gaze felt like it came from much further away than he was. "I have not seen anyone cast such a spell in many ages. Where did you learn it?"

She concentrated on the memory once more, trying to see the beginning. What had caused her to want to change the color of that rose? Why did it feel important? Past the vivid act itself she couldn't discern anything from the shifting grey that seemed to precede it in fits and starts. Only words, _I could show you._

“What?” The sharp change in his sentiments as much as his question brought her back. He'd donned a searching gaze. “What do you mean you could show me?”

“I- what? Show you? Did... _I_ just say that?”

He seemed to have an idea as leaned forward to grasp her chin, his nose nearly brushing hers as he searched her eyes with determination. “Focus on that again. Do not close your eyes.”

His intensity worried her. What had just happened? What had he heard? “ _Focus_ Revas.” She took a deep breath and tried again, though it was admittedly much more difficult with her eyes open and gazing into his. She felt a subtle spell build in him as she called up the rolling green field, a soft breeze in shifting grasses. The early morning sun glinting off a thorned bush of wild white roses adorned in a sprinkling of dew. Her curiosity to have discovered such a plant, then grey… Fuzzy grey. Did she simply not remember that part? …Remember? A small fear crept up on her as she scrambled to pick up the threads of the memory. The rose clasped in her tiny hand- white, thorns uncomfortably pricking her skin. _You could help it, I could show you._ Grey, more impenetrable grey and then she cast the spell, and orange bloomed across the white like drops of paint in water. The piercing blue washed out the meadow as his gaze consumed hers once more. Her brows furrowed to match his. “Solas?”

His focus drew nearer as he seemed to realize just how close he still was, releasing her as he tipped back on his heels. “Fascinating.” He also seemed to realize that was hardly an answer as he met her confusion. “That memory has been altered. It appears you have been made to forget, though not entirely. Parts of that memory are blocked, but not erased. For what reason, I cannot discern.”

Her stomach dropped at his words, her heart sinking into the pit it left behind. Another one. Another piece of her missing, and if his reasoning held true, then it was clearly on purpose. _Why?_ What could possibly wish to make her forget something so small, something so innocent? Just how much else was there she couldn't remember? As she descended into her darkening thoughts she was vaguely aware that Solas had stood and walked back to his work, of the sounds of clinking jars, running water. His return was the surprise of warmth as his hand threaded hers, pulling her up to stand. Coaxing her leaden limbs to follow as he guided her to the couch, he sat back, maneuvering her to sit between his legs, pulling her to lean back against his chest. His warmth, his familiarity was comforting as he made his body the barrier to keep the harsh world out, but it was not enough to shake her deepening unease, until a worn journal was pressed into her hands. 

"Open it." A small smile against her neck as her curiosity slowly ebbed away the pain. She undid the clasp, gingerly opening the journal to the first page. Faced with an incredibly detailed drawing of the breach, small notes scrawled at the bottom detailing his observations. The next page was Haven, it's people frozen in disarray. The third page was _her ___, unconscious in a darkened cell draped across a familiar lap, the anchor sparking menacingly in her palm. Solas whispered in her ear, "The first time I held you. You would not remember, but I do."

She couldn't help the smile that overwhelmed her as much as his small gift. "Oh Solas..." Her smile only grew as he nuzzled against her neck, his sentiments coaxing hers out of their pit. "Keep going."

And so she did. Little scenes of their journey drawn in magnificent detail. The first time she met him on the side of the mountain, the ruined temple of Sacred Ashes, her efforts to seal the breach the first time. Haven again, it's people locked in determination. As hope began to fill the pages, his short notes became more hopeful as well. And she noticed she increasingly became the subject of his focus. Her sitting on the low wall, gazing off as the sun set, the deep suspicion she hadn't realized she wore when he had met her in her cabin. Her intense concentration as she sealed a rift in the Hinterlands. Little things punctuated the pages that she hadn't noticed at the time, the way the sun glinted off of lake Luthias, how peaceful Dennet's farmhold looked when it wasn't besieged by wolves and marred by fade rifts. Small bits of beauty in the war-torn landscape. Then her markings changed, he no longer drew the ghost of Dirthamen's vallaslin on her features- so lightly as if he feared to put them there, his own firmly took their place. And with it she changed, he drew her with more detail. Her expressions, her wolf form surrounded by the joyous pack she freed, her eyes, the wind lending an even wilder quality to her hair. Then there was a full color portrait of the first time she met his gaze and truly smiled, her eyes not so sharply drawn.

She tilted her head back, attempting to meet his gaze, "When was this?"

He hummed slightly, "You were passing by my cabin to talk with Adan." She chuckled, "Did you know then?"

"That you held an interest in me? Despite your attempts to hide it? Yes." A small chuckle. "It is the reason I visited you that night with a nicer bottle of wine."

An amused chuckle left her as his cheek pressed warmly to her forehead. She eventually returned her attention to the pages as his arms wound tighter around her. "All of this exists in memory, in the fade, yet I find it helps to have my own perspective written firmly in reality. No interpretation but my own."

It truly was comforting to know should she forget, at least he would remember. She smiled again, feeling lighter than before. "Thank you Solas. I... _Really_ needed this."

They turned through pages for a time, remarking on their journey thus far. Her heart lightened as she saw the world through his eyes. Then she came across a drawing that was different, tucked among the rest. Instead of his usual focus on her as the singular subject, she had a partner. It was a scene that had definitely _never_ happened. A dance of some sort, and she was held fast in the arms of a strikingly familiar elven man. Not noticing that Solas had stiffened behind her as she puzzled out the drawing. It dawned on her then… it **was** Solas, _with HAIR_. She gaped at the picture. Chancing a glance up at him, and she fell completely smitten with the blush rising high on his cheekbones. He cleared his throat roughly "I... had forgotten about that one."

Her eyebrow rose with her question, “Oh? And when did _this_ one happen?” 

"It was a dream." His flush only grew.

 _Oh_. "You... Dream of me?"

“How could I not? You draw my attention well enough in reality, should you not also draw my attention in dreams?” She turned in his embrace, meeting the defiant heat in his gaze with her surprise. "Now that is _easily_ the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." He chuckled warmly, "I did say I would seek to outdo the compliment did I not?" She set the journal aside, wrapping her arms around him. "That you did," the growing amusement in her tone did not go unnoticed, his pointed question apparent in a sharply raised brow, so she spoke the thought on her mind. “You dream of yourself with hair? Why?” A soft sigh fell from him, “That is how I looked when I was younger, before I got rid of it.”

“Oh?” She pulled back to look at him, “What were you like?” 

A more drawn out sigh this time, a rueful smile muddled his features. “I was prideful, impulsive… unruly. I thought my answers were the right ones. I didn’t listen to wisdom as closely as I should have.”

She considered the picture his words painted, and while there were roots of the person he described in him, she was certain that wasn’t the man she saw before her. “Hmmm. That's not what I see in you now. If anything you rarely seem to do anything without great consideration.”

He chuckled but there was a weight to it that belied his amusement, “I still make mistakes.”

“Is that why you got rid of your hair, because you changed?”

He looked at her searchingly, “In part, yes.” He paused as a small concern tugged at her heart, “Would you prefer I still had it?”

“Oh- _no_! It’s not like that. I mean, don't get me wrong. It looked lovely on you, and..." She could feel the blush darkening her features, creeping up her ears. “There are… uh, certain _benefits_ to having hair like that... That would be interesting to take advantage of.” Her blush deepened as she hid her face in her hands “ _Oh-I'm-making-a-fool-of-myself._ No, I prefer you just the way you are Solas, your look suits you.”

“Benefits?” She closed her eyes as she attempted to figure out how to disappear, the heat rising on her face increasing as she fought to not even remotely think about those benefits. It had been a stupid thought, caught off-guard by his honesty. She squirmed to slide out of his embrace as he tightened his arms around her. His laugh grew as she fought to free herself with one hand while still resolutely covering her face with the other. “It's nothing forget I said anything.” 

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“Well it _is_. Let me go!” He instantly complied as she stalked off across the room, busying herself once more with swaths of cloth as she fought her embarrassment. Why had she said that? It was a stupid notion. She felt his amused apology as he approached, settling down beside her as he set to work helping her. With his skill they made short work of the cloth, a sea of shifting green in piles about them. He then showed her a more efficient spell for seamlessly fusing the fabric together, would that she had known about _that_ years ago. It would have made her life so much easier to not have spent her time working out the complex method she employed involving several wards and the careful application of fire. They had managed to finish covering half the windows before Solas spoke up once more.

“Revas, I'd like to show you something.”

She turned to face him where he sat staring intently at the cloth he was working on. He seemed to be debating whether or not he really meant what he said, before meeting her gaze suddenly sure of his statement. 

“The spell I cast before, it... allowed me to see your memory as you remembered it. It is only fair that I show you something in return.” 

Oh. That was not what she had expected. He was always so guarded about the immense unknowns of his past. The prospect of seeing a memory of his ignited a careful curiosity in her. He took her sentiment as consent as he guided her to sit astride his lap, now at eye level. She tried not to think about how close she was as he coaxed her to lean in- as he had before, or how soft his gaze was as he dropped the last of his walls. She felt his spell build as he whispered “Relax and don't close your eyes Revas.”

* * *

The blue of his eyes slowly became a vast cloudless sky, framed by golden grasses swaying over her in the waves of a heated breeze, the buzzing of some insect thick in the air. The air itself felt strange to her, vibrating slightly against her skin, stimulating and potent. Yet there was an overpowering laziness that hung over it all that permeated everything as time seemed to creep to a halt under the weight of it. She sat up- wondering at that she could do so. It felt so real, so _existent_. He hadn’t conveyed that it would be like _this_ , like actually being here. She surveyed the area, surprised to see a dent in the shifting grass- someone was lying next to her, half dozing in the heat of the sun. She crawled closer, her limbs languorous as it seemed to take years to part the wall of grass between them. Her soft noise of surprise went unnoticed by the figure that provoked it. His skin lightly tanned, freckled, bare chested, arm thrown over his eyes. Dark brown hair arrayed out around him like a darkened halo, draped and caught amid the grass. It was unmistakably Solas, yet he was unlike she had ever seen him. Though it seemed his love of form fitting pants ran deep. Even the drawing could not appropriately convey the stature of the man before her. He looked like he belonged here somehow, like this field was his as much as the sky and the light that fell upon him.

It surprised her that she was apart from him, expecting to be seeing this though his eyes not her own. Had he walked through her memory like this? She hadn’t seen him, did that mean he couldn’t see her? She suddenly had many questions. What would happen if she reached out to poke him? A small laugh escaped her at the thought, and a rolling chuckle answered. His teeth bared in a grin. “No that won’t work.” She froze, heart hammering in her chest, had he just heard her thoughts? “Hey, Wisdom- I said that won’t…” He sat up abruptly looking for someone who wasn’t there. “-work. Damnit, did I fall asleep again?” She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle her chuckle at the intense concentration the man bore, so like yet unlike the man she knew. This one looked like he was about to hurt himself thinking too hard. 

And then scorching day turned to soothing night, the extreme shift startled her as the sun wheeled across the sky in far too great a hurry. Yet the moon rose slowly as she jumped to her feet suddenly lighter than she had expected, the night was mist and an airy carefree vibrancy. She spun at the shift- overpowered in her efforts, not expecting this new weightlessness. And then she tripped over herself, falling face first across the lap of the man who now leaned back gazing wistfully at the stars. She lay there unmoving, face pressed firmly to the ground, her waist bent over his outstretched legs. She didn't dare breathe as seconds stretched to minutes. Yet, nothing happened, and she breathed a long sigh, moving to pull her limbs under her, shifting to sit up.

“The interesting thing about memory…” She went rigid “...is that it can easily twist to dreams.” Arms closed about her as he leaned forward, lifting her with ease to sit astride his lap. “The slightest distraction can change the retelling, and such a lovely distraction you are.” He caressed her cheek, thumb swiping roughly over her bottom lip. "Solas?" He answered with a broad smile and a low rumble, "Little wolf."

“I am sorry I didn't expect-”  
“Do not be, you saw enough to understand where I came from. But perhaps while we are here you would indulge me in a whim?”

She considered what he could mean. Gazing long at his confidence draped in moonlight like a second skin, his hair wild with bits of grass sticking out of it. The wide grin that offset her lover's eyes, the softness there that was entirely his, not his younger self. It brought a smile to her face. "What do you have in mind?”

"Something new for you to remember." And with that admission he lifted her up, moving to stand with her as if she weighed nothing, in fact here under these unfamiliar stars she probably did. It was a strange sensation as he settled her lightly on her feet. Taking up her hand as he placed her left on his shoulder, his right wrapping around her waist. _Oh_.

"I don't know how to dance."

He smiled as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, as if they weren't the only people in this world, "I will show you. Feel how I move, follow it."

He stepped forward then, his thigh parting hers, she stepped back following his lean. He shifted to the side and she moved to meet him. Then he stepped back once more and she advanced. Repeating the shift back, he started the simple steps over and she smiled against his shoulder as he hummed a tune to keep time. The only time that mattered.

He turned her slowly, and before long his steps varied, his hummed tune became more elaborate, increasing in tempo. He released all but her hand as he spun her, pulling her back to him as she laughed- dizzy from the maneuver and the look of amusement on his face. He leaned in slowly, and his lips met hers. The shock of the warmth spreading through her, the electricity of the touch she longed for- 

Her eyes fluttered shut.

* * *

The cool night air was gone, her normal weight settled about her astride his thighs once more. Her lips firmly pressed to his. He didn't miss a beat as the memory ended, pulling her flush against him coaxing her lips to part, deepening the kiss. Hand reaching up to thread through her hair, her hands drifting up to rest on his shoulders. He pulled away and she chased his retreat, a light chuckle fell from lips she already missed as he brought her brow to press against his, hands framing the curve of her ears. _“Ar lath ma vhenan.”_

The endearment slipped past his lips with barely a thought, yet he wouldn’t take it back. He’d been thinking it, whispering it for ages. He couldn’t help the grin as she visibly melted at his admission, breathing a soft echo of his words, “Vhenan.” Her expression open, the adoration he'd often felt through their bond reaching new heights as she gazed at him anew. The soft yellowed haze of her eyes illuminating his. His heart warmed at the thought, the small bright sun to his unending sky. 

The broad smile on his face grew as he tilted hers, capturing her charming gasp. Sliding one hand through her hair as his other wound around her waist, pulling her closer. He let her deepen the kiss, seeking out his tongue as she shifted over his thighs. He knew then she would be the end of him. The taste of her on his tongue, the feel of her warmth pressed tight against him. He would never want to stop. He gently tugged her head back as he broke the kiss, baring her neck to him he left a trail of searing marks to her collarbone. Nipping his way back up to capture her lips once more, to accept the sounds she gave him. Oh such delightful little noises they were, escalating in insistency. He felt her ardor even as she pressed her hips to his. Her desire sparking his, his body responding quickly to her call, the heat catching and spreading. He groaned. He had captured his mate, he would claim her now, she was ready for him. Bury himself deep, give her his- _No_. 

He broke off, panting. “Tell me to leave vhenan. This is reckless. I will only hurt you if I stay.”

He was panting, the heat rolling of him in waves, his hands placed lightly on her hips searing her skin- a slight tremble in his fingers. She tentatively placed her hands on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, pulsing in time to the minute tug in the strings bound to her own. She concentrated on him, weighing what they were about to do, against what they had already done. It felt as though there would be no step back from where they were going, whereas what they had already done could be taken back. It was a surprisingly large gap to leap. The scrutiny in the darkened sky of his gaze called her own. He wanted this, it was plain to see, yet he held himself in check waiting for her to decide. She knew he was also deeply afraid of hurting her again. She could feel the sentiment buried underneath the vast depth of his desire. He was not perfect, but then again neither was she. If there was to be pain, she trusted him to deliver it. If there was a way to mitigate it, she trusted him to do so- even if he did not trust himself. Yet there was something bothering him she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Do you want this with me Solas?” According to the surprise he’d donned he hadn’t expected her to ask, or maybe he thought his interest too obvious for the question? He took a centering breath, and she felt his heart calm it’s frantic staccato. He closed his eyes, and she sat perfectly still, waiting. It shouldn’t be all on her, he should have the chance to walk away despite her answer. At length he answered, “I do vhenan, but there are… potential consequences…” She allowed him a small smile, catching his meaning. Relieved she could finally set his mind at ease for once. She cupped his cheek, “I have been drinking a certain type of tea for a few weeks now, just in case. So, there’s at least one less consequence for you to worry about.” His relief was tangible, she chuckled slightly- apparently she guessed right. 

“I want this Solas. I want you, stay _vhenan’ara._ ” 

The breaking of his restraint was a magnificently beautiful shift to behold as his desire danced across his features. His hands left her hips to capture her jaw, rushing in to lay claim to her mouth. Deft fingers sliding under the curve of her ears, threading through her hair as she permitted him to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping up her moan. Her hands mirrored his, nails scraping lightly up his scalp, and sweeping down the back of his neck. She reveled in the way he shivered against her, but then he broke the kiss off abruptly and she wondered if she'd done something wrong. The intent stare he leveled her with was laden with a debate she couldn’t guess. It seemed neither side won as he spoke up, his voice rough with want “You expressed a desire, to take advantage of a certain, benefit…” Her eyebrows shot up, surely he couldn’t mean? He leaned in to whisper low in her ear, “I could do more than show you a drawing, Revas, more than a mere memory.” He didn’t pull away, choosing to suck gently at her ear before a tentative bite replaced his lips. It startled a small gasp from her as she fought to focus on considering his request, “But you changed your look for a reason, right? If it is not something you want, I will not ask it of you.” He relinquished her ear, blowing a soft breath over it, the sudden chill sending a shiver through her.

"I want you to feel what it's like, I want to show you what your touch can do to me _ma vhenan_ , at least this once." The indulgent groan that punctuated his heated words shook a breathy- " _Yes_ , show me" from her.

He pulled back slightly, his hands releasing her as she felt the spike in his magic, the spell build in his mana. His hands raised to his brow he donned a focused look. Dragging his hands slowly across his scalp, and at first there was nothing different until his hands reached where his hairline had been. Flowing dark brown strands sprung forth like silk spilling from his touch. Falling down across his face, over his ears, down his shoulders as his hands reached his neck. His hair hung loose, mid-way down his bare chest, the length rivaling hers. The cascade of his locks drew her entire attention. The beauty in the spell rivaled only by how much more disheveled he looked with hair. A soft gasp fell from her as she reached out to brush a strand from his face. A soft chuckle his reply. "I imagine you approve?" She realized she was gaping at him, "How?" His arms wound around her waist, pulling her close, "It is a simple enough spell. Perhaps I could show you if you ever have another incident with fire." It brought forth an honest laugh from her as she pressed her forehead to his, reveling in this silly man of hers, her hands betraying her interest as they wove through his hair. At the slightest tug he angled his face to capture her lips once more with an urgency that left her breathless. The response making her bold as she wound her fingers deeper, shaking an unexpected moan from him. A mischievous grin forming against his mouth until he bit her lip lightly in retaliation.

He drew back, his hands firmly keeping her from chasing his retreat. "Do you see now what you do to me _ma vhenan_? Can you feel how my body calls to yours?" Her eyes drifted shut as she focused on their tightly bound threads, the burning heat within him- sending tendrils of fire through her as it sought purchase inside her- suddenly catching hold, coaxing a small whimper from her lips. He caught up her hand as she opened her eyes.

He watched her carefully as he guided her hand to the pronounced bulge between them, she knew he was looking for any sort of hesitation- he would find none. She couldn't help the gasp as her fingers brushed against him. He was _startlingly_ hard. Her touch grew bolder as his eyes fluttered shut, and then she felt his desire intensify in their bond. What her touch did to him, she felt feeding the fire inside herself. _"Oohh."_ Stroking him gently as he pressed his hand firmly against hers and she understood, applying more pressure as she mirrored his shudder. To feel him in her grasp, it didn't seem like such an impossible fit. She fought the cringe at her earlier worry. Then she had a sudden desire to see him free, bared before her once more, though his hand caught hers as he guessed her intent, stopping her before she succeeded. "Vhenan, must I convince you not to be so impatient?" She snickered, fighting to free him despite his hold, he suddenly shifted, and she was flat on her back her legs parted around him, his hips pressed to hers as he drew her offending hand up over her head. The press of his clothed length up against her stilled her, he noticed her reaction- a grin forming as his free hand caressed lower down her stomach, "Permit me to return the favor _vhenan_ , it truly is an exquisite sensation." With that declaration of war, his hand tugged her smalls down, the flat of his palm brushing heavily against that small nub that drove her wild with want, yet he did not stop there in spite of the truly wanton noise she gave him. His fingers curled lower, sliding down her slit, circling her entrance. His expression shifted abruptly from retaliatory heat to unabashed want. "Oh Ma'revas, do you feel how your body already begs for mine- How your nectar already flows for me? Shall I give it what you desire?” 

Her lip firmly bitten at his words, she released it only to beg her words tinged with her frustration " _Please_ Solas… I need-" She hadn't expected the feral depth of heat in his gaze as he fought not to give in to her plea, instead slowly sinking his fingers deeper as she felt his length twitch against her thigh. “I know what you need.” A soft moan left her as he pressed a single finger past her well slicked entrance, slowly thrusting it deeper until he was up to the broad expanse of his palm. His eyes locked to hers as he probed, thrusting and curling gently. The drag of the pad against her inner walls forced an instinctive thrust of her hips. He promptly quelled the movement, releasing her hand as he held her down with his, shifting his body to lay low over her hips. She felt him withdraw slightly as he added another digit. Her mouth fell open in a silent moan at the sensation as her hands grasped at his shoulders, the foreign feel of his fingers sent a shock of thrill through her, knowing he was feeling rather intimately what she was. It was contributing heavily to his darkened expression. His fingers swirled experimentally as she arched back, her eyes fluttering shut. He tutted quietly, withdrawing completely from her core, the absence of his touch pulled her gaze to his once more, a smirk playing about his lips. "Look at me vhenan, don't look away."

It seemed a simple enough request until he thrust his fingers back inside her, having added a previously unlooked for digit. She moaned with conviction, feeling herself stretch to accommodate the third finger. Fighting to keep her gaze locked to his as a drawn out moan shaped his lips in ecstasy- her lip firmly bitten once more as she felt him spread his fingers within her. He kept his pace slow and deliberate as his efforts coaxed soft noises from her throat. Slow enough to prevent her from reaching the release she sought, never having teased herself in such a way, always racing to her finish. Then the hand firmly holding her hips slid down and pressed against the bundle of nerves and she _keened_ , fighting to buck against his hold. He broke their gaze first- biting down on his own pleasure to give her hers. His head bowed over her, she arched back, so close, _so close..._

Then his hand left her, and she had no time to mourn the loss as he kissed the small nub, the sweet roughness of his tongue darting out calling back to a familiar encounter. She cried out his name, the ecstasy of it held him spellbound, fighting off his own pleasure that surged within him dangerously close to breaking free. He would not come undone like this, he would wait until he was joined within her. A gentle suck and a hard thrust of his hand and she came undone in his care. The shock of her orgasm surging through her as she felt his moan more than heard it. His desire reached a fevered pitch as she unwound around his fingers, barely aware that he'd stilled as if the sensation was too much to endure. Panting heavily she slowly came down satisfied but not sated- faced with his arousal tugging at her senses, the gentle caress of his tongue, his fingers curled within her prolonging her high.

When he finally pulled back he looked ready to fall apart, in his eyes the sharp hunger of a starving man, pupils blown wide, tongue darting out to taste his swollen lip. He drank in the sight of his well pleased lover, a soft hum of approval that rolled into a deep thrum in his chest as he repeated the movement, savoring her taste on his lips. Eyes falling to hooded as his hair spilled to conceal his lust. And then he did what she least expected. Pulling himself up her body, to meet her lips with his. A kiss so tender she melted to his touch. His arms sliding underneath her, gently cradling her form- as hers wound around his back. He pulled back, soft elvhen praise spilled from his mouth as he pressed his lips over her cheek bones, punctuating words she barely grasped, catching only ‘ _Vhenan, ma sa’lath_ ’. 

He wished to pay homage to that beautiful glow she wore. That his efforts were the reason for it- drove him wild. He never wanted this moment to end. Her normally sharp yellow eyes, softened to a fiery haze. She was _his_. She never wanted this moment to end. A quieter attentive side she rarely saw in his pursuit of her, his gaze soft a quiet blue sky welcoming the rising of the sun. He cherished her with his mouth, the tremor in his hands quelled by her touch. He could be gentle for her, a soft sigh- a warm smile lit her face as his hair fell further to curtain them from the world. She wasn't the Inquisitor anymore- he wasn't Fen'Harel. They were each other's. _“Ar lath ma Solas- Ar lath ma vhenan.”_

Another soft kiss tugged at her heart as he shifted slightly, his length pressed hard against her. The heat in his eyes returned, and she knew he would wait for her affirmation. He would wait for her consent, no matter how painful, he would pull away should she desire it. "I give myself to you ma vhenan.” Her words threatened to break the dam that held him in check, his voice rough in response, “And I to you Revas.” He pulled back reluctantly and she missed the heat of him as he divested her of her smalls. She sat up slightly to pull off her tunic and breast bindings as he slid from his pants. Once he caught sight of her fully bared form he paused. She was breathtaking, bared in no finery but the sweat that draped her, the light flush he’d bestowed upon her. He was a sight to behold, his muscles coiled ready to spring, a slight tremor in his movements as telling as the rigid evidence of his arousal. He was as transfixed on her as she was on him, both laid bare.

_"You are beautiful vhenan."_

They both broke out into quiet laughter at their shared sentiment. Wide grins and knowing looks. He descended on her agonizingly slowly. Bracing himself over her, his length pressed against her well slicked folds. He rutted against her coating himself to ease his passage. Her lip bitten, his captured between sharp teeth, only slightly muffling the groan he could no longer contain. He shifted to guide himself to her entrance, her gasp as he eased in nearly broke his focus. Grounding himself in his grasp on her hip, he thrust slowly, shallow movements as the sounds that fell from his lover grew wilder, urging him on. 

He hilted home, his narrow hips jutting against hers as his name fell breathy from her lips, hers groaned from his. All they had done hadn't prepared her for this. As she felt her inner walls stretch to accommodate him she was truly lost to their combined pleasure. To feel him snug within her- to feel herself grasped tightly around him it was too much. To endure both their pleasure at once, and knowing he felt the same. The slow fire that had consumed them burned deeper, a primal ache as his senses cried out for him to move. Frozen in their long awaited joining he could spare the agony of the moment to commit her to memory. She felt as wild as his gaze, a split second of restraint before he descended on her, sucking on her battered lip before consuming her mouth. Fighting her for dominance as she begged with her tongue, fought to move against him, and then she flexed around him and they cried out in tandem. Her hands winding through his hair broke their stalemate, leaving her lips to bite down at the crook of her neck. A gasp became a moan, became an unrestrained howl. No longer could she tell where she ended and he began as he moved, a sudden thrust sending that unrelenting fire through her, followed by another, and another. He set a rough pace, the rolling thrusting of his hips coaxing increasingly desperate sounds from her throat. The sheer magnetic force of their pleasure preventing him from pulling out too far before plunging deeply within her. His hand fisted in her hair tugging to the side as he bit a line up her neck. She flexed experimentally to meet his hips with hers and he bit down hard. A growl surfacing from his chest as she repeated the movement. He didn't move to stop her so she continued meeting her hips to his increasingly fervent thrusts. The rain of his exertions fell softly to her. She was the parched earth and he the forgiving sky. The sharp pain in the lightning strike of his teeth at her neck sealed her undoing.

A short sharp cry from her lips as she felt him swell within her. His muscles tensing as he thrust slow, dragging his hips deliberately across the bundle of nerves, “oh Oh s-Solas!” He whispered softly against her neck _“Garas ma.”_ Another slow drag of his hips and she shattered inward under the force of her pleasure, shuddering against him as he held himself deep within her, a new pressure built in her- in him. His breath a quick pant as he neared his release. 

And then she _bit_ him. 

He cried out, as the immense pressure burst forth, her teeth pinching into the crook of his neck not muffling her guttural moan. His shuddering groan joined it as he ground into her, throbbing. His seed sown deep, white light and heat as their release burned through them. Shaking waves as muscles tensed. It burned away all that they were, wrapped tight around each other. His brow pressed to hers, hips rocking into her. The ground quaked and the sky shook. Ragged breaths shared as they slowly fell to earth once more. He pulled back at last to take in the wide-eyed mutiny of his lover. Shaking his head at the grin forming there as he leaned in to kiss her with all he was worth.

Her grin would never leave her face, of that she was certain. Her eyes only leaving his gaze to glance wistfully at the perfectly good bed they'd neglected, before gifting him an unabashedly suggestive look. "Can… we do that again? Maybe on the bed this time?" His laugh was a truly wonderful thing. "If you wish," his voice dropped in tone, the roughness, the throaty vibration riling her up on purpose, “It is within my right to claim you repeatedly, wherever you desire _ma vhenan_.” Another pause, “Within reason.” She laughed, reveling in the resurgent heat his words had provoked. His grin rivaled hers, teeth bared in promise of retribution and she couldn't help but feel elated to see him so lighthearted. No weight to his gaze, none of the pain or worry in their bond from before, as young as the man in the drawing. 

Her smile even curved her words into light lilting shapes as she wound her arms tighter around his back, more of his weight pressing down on her. “I had no idea it could feel like that.” 

He chuckled weakly against her skin, “To be fair, our bond changes how it feels. It is… more _intense_.”

\---

He had fulfilled her request, taking her to bed, making as much a mess of it as themselves. Afterwards he had carried her to the bath, she too weak to make it there on her own. The grin on his face hadn't abated in the wake of their fervent efforts. To finally feel her in her entirety, he never wanted it to end. Finding himself more than up to the task to prolong _their_ evening, as if this day belonged to them and would last as long as they wished. Would that it was true, that he could take his time, pleasure her for hours- years. Countless heartbeats worth of sighs, moans laden with the heat in her voice. He washed her with a reverence, lightly caressing her oversensitive skin, as she returned the gesture. Marveling at the way his hair fell across his face unbound. It was a small annoyance he’d forgotten, yet he’d endure it for her at least for their evening. 

\---

“May I braid it? Before you get rid of it again?” He couldn’t deny the sweet edge of hope in her question, her eyes wide as she waited not so patiently for his answer. He couldn’t help but allow her desire as he nodded. “I see I was right to indulge in this impulse at least.” She scoffed, moving to sit behind him, “Oh as if you don’t know exactly what you do to me, having pretty hair only makes it worse.” Her fingers combed gently through his hair, the slight tugs as she parted the strands tugging at other, primal, strands deep inside him. “Perhaps, it _is_ a simple enough spell, I could easily repeat it.” Her hands abandoned their effort, wrapping around his chest, her face buried in her half finished work. “Only if you wish it Solas, although… it was nice to have something to hold onto while you threatened to fuck me across the carpet.” He could feel her shaking laugh, despite her attempts to bite down on it. “Threatened? As I recall I did so, thoroughly. If you are in need of another demonstration?” Her hands had returned to his hair, her efforts tugging his locks more insistently were as good as any answer. He spun to face her, to pin her against the floor once more, a light laughter in her words as he leaned over her. “Solas! I wasn’t done!” A wide grin curved his lips as he responded, 

“And neither am I.”

* * *

Solas woke before she did, just as the sun was beginning to show itself. He had an inclination that would be a habit with her. He found he didn't mind, it meant there was more time for him to watch her at peace. It was a rare moment when nothing weighed on her mind. In fact it was a rare moment when she did not weigh on his mind, her sentiments no longer as distracting. 

He considered her as he lay tightly wound around her. The slow rise and fall of her chest, the slight smile on her lips. A pang of guilt shot through him, this had to be unwise… she brought out things in him he tried to bury, she so effortlessly distracted him. He couldn’t afford to forget what he needed to do, not even for her- yet, there was still hope that he wouldn’t have to be alone. That she’d understand. A long sigh escaped him, perhaps there was a balance to be had from it all. His affections for her, his plans, they need not be mutually exclusive paths. He could still use this opportunity to gauge their reactions. It would make what must come easier. Perhaps he could allow himself this respite with her, for a time, before he had to give her the choice, and the knowledge to make such a choice. He wouldn’t have her follow him blindly. She bore his marks with grace so far, yet he couldn’t shake the worry that had she been given the choice she might not have chosen this, chosen him. It was a futile concern that would get him nothing, there was no way to know now. 

And many more questions had emerged, questions that were far more pressing. Something was teaching her things from the past and then making her forget how she learned them. What could have taken such an interest in her? Could it be the same spirit that granted her dreams? It was certainly a spirit of some sort, yet for it to seek her out in waking... What purpose did it have for her? Did it have anything to do with him? Why had it placed her at the conclave?

He distracted himself from his answerless questions with her anchor, probing the mark of his power, assessing it for changes. It was still stable, but for how long? He breathed a sigh, there was still time. He busied his mind, working out different approaches to reclaiming his power from her when the time came. None were sufficient. They would all harm her in some way, if she survived at all. He needed to figure it out before fate forced his hand. He would not lose her because of his mistake, the mistake that already put her though so much. 

He had hardly noticed that his thoughts were drawn back to her once more. He wondered how different the world would be had he met her in his youth. His decision to bring her into his memory had been a more desperate desire than he'd let on. He dreamed of such scenarios often. Though undoubtedly she would probably not like the person he was then, but he couldn’t resist showing her. After all she’d shown him- she had been such a bright little child. It was a more solid answer to the question he'd asked. She hadn't changed much at all. The brightened wonder she still wore between burdened looks, the brilliant enthusiasm when it came to learning new things- had he shown her too much? Would she guess at what had been different? It was far too easy to tell her too much. 

His thoughts drew back to his desire. Would she have grown to her own power? Would she have helped him then? Would he have never had to raise the veil, sundered all his kin? Or would they have considered her the greatest conquest, to subdue _Revas_ as they did the freedom of so many others? They were thoughts he shouldn’t indulge in, he hadn’t met her then and the world was what it was. Yet that line of questioning prodded relentlessly at his mind, would she have changed him as effortlessly as she was doing so now? 

His breath caught hard in his chest, shaking waves of anxiety drew him away. 

_No._

* * *

She woke to a sweet ache in her muscles. Woke to his scent wrapped around her. Woke to soft light, streaming muted green through verdant curtains. 

When she woke he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Angst is happening. Blame [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4giE9QhJ48).
> 
>  
> 
>  _“If there was to be pain, she trusted him to deliver it. If there was a way to mitigate it, she trusted him to do so- even if he did not trust himself.”_
> 
> Just so you know- it physically hurt me to write this. Oh creators, someone take away my writing privileges, although, if the writing police didn’t come after me for chapter 10- they probably never will. 
> 
> That’s an encouragement I don’t need.
> 
> UGH foreshadowing hurts. Also, longish chapters will probably become the norm here on out.


	19. In Which She Stepped Up Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cold light of dawn illuminates the mistakes wrought in the dark.

_Gone._ It had taken her a long time to wake up enough to comprehend the full extent of that word. She was vaguely aware he wasn't in the room, yet once she reached for the strings that held them- she found almost nothing there at all. It shocked her wide awake and out of bed, pacing the floor as a mild anxiety rose in her mind.

He wasn't even in _Skyhold._

 _"How is that even possible_?" she wondered aloud. Hastily dressing before she strode out to the balcony, she searched the glacial plain as if she'd see him in stark contrast against the snow, somewhere on the horizon. Though she knew she wouldn't. He was so _very_ far away she could barely even feel the tug, much less any sentiments stronger than a slight whisper. Even with a full night's travel that distance shouldn't be possible. Or at least she felt pretty certain of that. That small tug was what she clung to. It was the only thing that convinced her he hadn't released her from their bond, the only thing that convinced her he was still alive.

She sank listlessly to the cold stones of the balcony under the weight of this new uncomfortable unknown. It was strange to feel so alone again, she had grown accustomed to his constant presence. It was marked change from when her solitude had been comforting. Watching the shadows shift as the sun climbed higher. Wondering what had happened, wondering why he left without a word. Had she done something wrong? Had he? He hadn't hurt her... Though, his warning that he would echoed in her mind. Was he angry with himself again? Was his departure completely unrelated? Yet... If it was wouldn't he have said something? Her thoughts ran in unhealthy circles as the cold seeped into her bones. It was that more than anything that roused her from her thoughts. She didn't have the luxury of worrying about it now and she would get no answers from sulking. Perhaps he'd left a message with someone before he left? She grumbled, rubbing her face with her hands, trying to shake the last vestiges of sleep and the growing pit of unease. This was the last thing she needed right now. And now she needed to wake Dorian, the only other person in Skyhold just as reluctant to rise with the sun as she was. And though she didn't have to leave until noon, her friend would need warning. That meant she needed breakfast. She donned her armor as she pulled herself together, hoping it would lend her the strength she sought.

* * *

She stared up at the pointy chair, thankful the matching sword was nowhere in sight. It was a small mercy in an already unforgiving day. “Does it have to be a throne, and uh, so _intimidating?_ It’s bad enough people worship me, do they need to fear me as well?”

"It’s _important_ darling, you must be above all others, irreproachable in your judgements. If they sense weakness they will seek to exploit it, to turn your judgement in their favor, or tear you down. You cannot afford it, the Inquisition cannot afford it." She sighed long, dragging her hands down her face, all she wanted was breakfast, not a lecture from Vivienne. "Well- can I at least float some designs your way Josephine? I’m thinking something less… _that_."

"I believe that would be acceptable, Inquisitor, as long as we are able to sign off on the final designs?" 

"Sure, that’s fine. Can we… get this over with?" She reluctantly approached the throne, disquieted at what they expected of her. Though, they _had_ appointed her, perhaps she could do this _her_ way. She settled down on the imposing chair stiffly as the occasional person who wandered through the hall stuck around to watch this new development. She hoped this would be quick, she didn't feel fit to judge anyone and an audience would only make things worse. She watched warily as a pair of scouts attempted to usher in a rather large Avvar man, only succeeding in being towed along behind as he strode into the hall. He was bound, her eyes narrowed- she didn't like where this was going.

"Chief Movran the Under-"  
"This courtroom is unnecessary."  
“-Was found attacking the walls, with a goat.”

She had to fight the laugh that threatened to escape, even so- her mood lightened considerably. This was not the dour affair she had been expecting. “Ohhhh, _you_! Right- sorry about the lightning. I was almost certain I was dreaming at the time.” 

“You're the shaman that struck me?” 

“ _Inquisitor!_ You do not need to apologize to the prisoners.”

A small scowl surfaced. Ah yes, this was not going to go smoothly. There were rules here she didn’t understand. Grumbling, _“Not a child, don’t need prisoners, all he did was throw goats.”_

“What was that?” 

“Nothing Josie.”

She turned to face Movran, “A shaman? No, not as you would know them, but close enough for the comparison I suppose.” 

“You seem… familiar with our ways, you should know I was only responding as is my custom, you killed my idiot son, and I answered as was my due by smacking your holdings with goat’s blood.” 

She chuckled. “It is a custom I’ll admit I was woefully unfamiliar with.” She leveled him with a curious gaze, “What do you think I should do with you? Our conflict was accidental. Though, I’m sure we’d rather it not be repeated.”

“ _INQUISITOR!_ You **_cannot_** ask the prisoner how to judge him!” Josephine was bordering on shrill in her exasperation. 

Movran offered, "My boy had planned to murder Tevinters, but he got feisty with your Inquisition, a red headed mother guarantees a brat.” He shifted on his feet, “Do as you’ve earned Inquisitor. My clan yields. My remaining boys have brains still in their heads.” 

She considered this carefully, there was a solution there somewhere, but was it right? What even _was_ right? She was not equipped to handle this. Would she piss off even more people with it? Probably, but she was willing to take that chance to get this man out of his bindings.

“Alright, Movran, say I have you and all your kin grab everything you can carry, weapons and all and I sen”-* **Cough** *-“ _exile_ you to Tevinter.” 

It provoked a boisterous laugh from the strange man. “Hah! My idiot boy got us something after all!” 

She chuckled, relieved the man approved, “It’s a deal”- she cleared her throat loudly- avoiding the glare from Josie and now Vivienne as well- well at least _someone_ approved. “I mean this is my _judgement_. Free this man, he has a date with Tevinter.” She watched as a pair of scouts released his bindings, she breathed a sigh of relief, jumping up from the throne as quick as she could.

“Hey Movran! You had breakfast yet?”

“ **INQUISITOR!** ” 

“What? He’s not a prisoner now, and I have questions.” The man stalled hesitantly before deciding to follow her to the kitchens. She looked back over her shoulder as she turned the corner, “Hey, watch your horns, the passage is a bit low on the stairs.”

The kitchen staff would probably never let her live it down. They pilfered the kitchens before eating a standing breakfast in the lower level. She knew better than to confer with him openly. Especially sending him where she was. She imparted her respects, and that if they needed anything once they reached their destination she would do her best to supply them, covertly, so long as no one caught wind they were supporting them openly. Any information they could send back in return would be helpful. While the Inquisition wasn’t openly at war with Tevinter, extra eyes couldn’t hurt. The chief readily agreed, though he didn’t know what to make of her. “Did you have questions?” 

“No not really, I just don’t appreciate how they expect me to run things, how they treat me here sometimes. I’m trying to fix what’s wrong in the world, not rule it. You could have thrown whatever you wanted at the walls and I wouldn’t have cared so long as it wasn’t the ass crack of dawn.” It provoked a hearty laugh from the man, his giant hand descending to thoroughly mess up her hair, the force behind it nearly knocking her over. “Heey! watch it!” 

“You’re not so bad for a lowlander.” She scoffed, “Maybe I’m not a lowlander.” He shook his head horns and all, “Hah, maybe you’re not.” She shoved the last bit of pastry in her mouth, turning to the man, her curiosity uncontainable. “Does a redheaded mother really guarantee a brat?” He chuckled, “Usually.” 

“Huh… well that explains a lot.” The thought entertained her, considering her mother… No, she didn’t have time to think about that now. She shook off his amused stare, there was much to do and she shouldn’t keep him longer.

“Well, Lady of the skies watch over you and yours- Movran the Under, take what you need from the kitchen for your trip back to them.” She paused, reconsidering her wording- "That does not include the cook, don’t harass the kitchen staff… _again_.” He inclined his head, a parting laugh before he turned- silently stalking off towards the kitchens. She listened intently, the cook didn't start yelling so she hoped he was behaving himself. The last thing she needed was the man to abscond with the workers. It was too bad she probably couldn’t arrange for them to stay on, not that they’d likely accept it. There was a freedom to the Avvar she admired greatly. 

She sighed, wishing she could just slip out and head to Crestwood on her own. They were trying to force her to fit a mold that wasn't her shape. Who thought ruling, judgement, worship was something she was suited for? She reluctantly climbed the stairs once more, not eager to face the wrath or the lecture that surely waited.

"Inquisitor, former magister Gereon Alexius." 

"Ugh." She pinched the bridge of her nose. This was turning out to be more trouble than she bargained for. “Ok, ok, get it over with.”

She'd forgotten all about the man, and for a few faltering heartbeats she was mortified. Incredibly thankful someone had thought to grab him from the cells in Haven as they made their escape. Had he been left behind... she shuddered. That would have been a fate she wished on no one.

She took that as a sign that he'd probably suffered enough, assigning him to work under supervision with the mages. No, she couldn't blame him, not really. It was Corypheus that held her rage for what took place in Redcliffe. Having already punched Alexius once, she felt even, and she couldn't bear the thought of keeping prisoners locked up. No, that thought didn't sit well with her at all. Besides- from what Dorian had told her, he had been a good man once, maybe he could be again.

She groaned, palming her face. She still hadn't woken Dorian.

Josephine was somewhat satisfied with her adherence to duty, if not still exasperated at her methods. Yet when she took the ambassador aside to ask- her demeanor changed to concern. She found out they had indeed received a note earlier in the morning that had been found by Leliana. That Solas had urgent matters to attend and would likely be gone for several weeks. “Forgive me for prying Inquisitor, but he didn't tell you? Aren’t you two... close?”

She sighed resignedly, “Josie, please call me Revas outside of official business, and no. He didn't.” She waved off the look of deepening concern on the ambassador's face. “It won't be a problem Josie. I’ll manage.” She left the great hall, hastened by the look of pity that had tinged the ambassador's eyes. Pity was the last thing she wanted.

She climbed the stairs to the rooms overlooking the garden to go wake Dorian. His door was unlocked and he didn't answer when she knocked, so she eased the door open to edge into the room. The bright shaft of light that snuck in with her provoked a response, an angry one. The man was clearly hungover, and his anger only softened when she divulged the reason she woke him. He remarked "I did not take him for the sort to..." He trailed off as he caught the falling look on her face, quickly shifting gears for one so incapacitated. "He'll come back Revas. If you had seen the look on his face when he thought he'd lost you, the way he ordered everyone out of your tent after they had all given up on you, then you would know that. It is a rare thing to find love like that." She sighed, knowing that wouldn’t make it easier if he didn’t, still she appreciated Dorian’s effort to put her fears to rest. 

"Dorian, have I told you that you are my favorite person in the world?"

"Of course I am. Now can you please do something about this pounding in my head? Or are you just here to make it worse?" She smiled sweetly before giving him a sharp prod to the forehead. “Be careful Dorian, I might just end up choosing to make it worse.” 

Rummaging around his room while ignoring his darkened complaints she found a bottle with a bit of what she hoped was alcohol, giving it a tentative sniff. "Ugh Dorian what have you been drinking? I think this would melt paint." His weak noncommittal tut was a poor answer, but it would have to do. She poured him a glass of the potent amber liquid cut heavily with water, handing it to him. Once he drank most of it she placed her hands on either side of his temples casting a spell for healing tinged with ice. The effect on him was immediate. "What would I do without you?" She laughed. "Probably freeze _and_ drink yourself to death." His laugh in response was bitter. "You don't know the half of it."

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing I can't handle." She sighed, that was a rehearsed response by now, and he was handling things the way she usually did. Whatever it was that bothered her friend, it couldn't be good. Bull would probably know, or maybe whatever it was had to do with Bull? It probably wasn't her business. "Well, I'm here if you want to talk." 

“I’m sure you’ll be the first to know, now can you leave? I’m not exactly decent under here.” She chuckled, leaving the man to get ready, thankful he didn't make her turn to Vivienne instead.

She waited by the stables, unsurprised that Blackwall kept to himself as she fidgeted. It was already noon and they should be leaving by now. She was eager to put some distance between her and this walled fortress of duty. Her hart was long since packed and saddled, the patience of the great beast only made her impatience seem that much more unbearable. She'd have forgone the saddle entirely but she knew Varric would likely be riding double with her. Her thoughts drifted back to Blackwall, he seemed to be carving something. She should probably apologize to the Warden, he was infuriating, but he probably didn’t deserve her ire. Her increased unease as she stared, shifting from one foot to the other hadn’t gone unnoticed. The man in question finally turned to face her, a reluctant inquiry, worded as if she might explode sent her way. “Is there… something you need Inquisitor?” He’d hardly finished his question when she blurted out her mind, _“I’m sorry-I was an ass-I mean you were an ass first, but that didn’t mean I had to make it worse-Sorry.”_ He had an odd look on his face, as if he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to laugh or not before he offered, “I may have gotten a little carried away. You have enough on your mind.” Her discomfort lightened considerably, “Well, you weren’t entirely wrong… It’s just. None of this is me. I’m trying to make it me for them, but it hurts.” She immediately regretted her honesty, now he looked incredibly uncomfortable. Had that been the wrong thing to say? Maybe she should try a different approach. “We’re… uh, leaving for Crestwood, to meet Hawke’s warden friend. Would you- err… I mean it is short notice but do you want to come with us?” 

“I- Yes. A chance to do something would be good.”

She nodded, leaving the man to gather his things, deciding that pacing around the courtyard was now the thing to do.

Blackwall was ready long before Bull showed up, who was followed closely by Varric. Dorian was expectedly, yet frustratingly late. She’d been about to go fetch him when he finally strolled up in all his perfectly waxed plumage. Varric raised an eyebrow and then a question. "Oh? Where's Chuckles?" She sighed. It was going to be a very long ride.

* * *

And it was. 

At least Varric’s inescapable questions distracted her from most of her thoughts. Of course he had insisted on asking about Chuckles- _Solas_. His nicknames were growing on her. She’d told him that Solas had left on important business, and since it wasn’t even worth trying to keep it a secret- she divulged that he’d left without so much as a word to her. The dwarf fell silent for a time, and she got the distinct feeling his silence was some form of apology. Though, it was deafening as it led the way for her thoughts to run away once more. She was relieved when he spoke up once again. 

“Care to update your bets Trickster?” She chuckled as she considered the possibilities, settling on one that would likely earn Dorian’s outrage. “Yeah actually,” she glanced sidelong at Bull. “30 sovereigns on Bull and Dorian.” 

Bull grinned, Dorian looked affronted. “Me and him? _Never_. What a preposterous idea.”

She laughed, “Varric, make that 50 sovereigns.”

“Great, got you down for 50. Soooo… Have you and Chuckles…?” She stiffened as her laughter died in her throat, _shit_ she had forgotten about the bet against them. Bull spoke up, unhelpfully, “Yeah, they have. Pay up.” She spun around in her saddle, wild eyed, “BULL!” 

“Yeah Boss?”

“Ugh, nevermind.” 

“No way! You're not getting out of it that easily Trickster- _details_! I'll just have to make it up without them.” She grumbled, not sure which was worse, and then he so helpfully informed her. “I'm picturing rose petals and let me guess, unrestrained primal passion?

The heat rising on her face didn't go unnoticed as the others turned to her, her gaze fixed on the road. “No rose petals.” Varric’s laugh floated up behind her, “And?” She sighed, wondering what was safe to tell. She couldn't mention the way his hair fell across his face, or the memory he shared, their dance, or how their bond afforded her an incredibly intimate knowledge of his pleasure. Just thinking about it brought her low once more. “He helped me make curtains for those awful windows, showed me some drawings of his, there was a bath at some point and…

“And? Don’t leave me hanging!” 

“And then I woke up and he was gone.” She could hear his sigh, and it pained her. That probably wasn’t very nice but she didn’t want to keep talking about it. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit.”

She felt even worse to have completely killed the conversation, and her thoughts did as they wished anyways in the void left behind. After a few miles of tense silence she spoke up, unable to stand it a moment more.

“Varric- How do you get people to like you? I mean not _you_ specifically, but in general?”

“What? C’mon Trickster, everybody likes you! You’re the reason we have so many recruits.”

She turned in the saddle to give him a pointed look. 

“Yeah I get it, you don't mean that.” He sighed. “You just have to be yourself, let them get to know you.”

Then again, perhaps silence and being berated by thoughts wasn’t so bad. It was better than facing how many secrets she was keeping from them all, better than the prospect that they probably wouldn’t like the real her. The version of herself that was so ill-suited to this role they placed her in that she had to constantly coach herself on what other people needed to see in her. She wondered if she had shaken Blackwall's confidence, if that's why he had looked at her like that. She sighed. Yeah, opening up to them was probably a bad idea.

She closed her eyes and envied Solas. He could leave without the world falling apart. 

\---

Being on the move had been bad, but sitting around the campfire on watch, dreading sleep made it all the worse. How was she supposed to stop thinking about this? She had longed for a real distraction, a fight, a fade rift- _anything_. But they were still on the well-travelled path near Redcliffe, and it was likely tomorrow would be more of the same. She’d taken first watch to delay falling asleep, afraid of what might happen when she did. What if she unconsciously sought him out? Would he let her? She didn’t want to face whatever answers existed to those questions. She was too tired, and such dreams wouldn’t be restful. Then there was her other predicament. She was sharing her tent with Varric. The less time spent where he could ask her questions, or potentially listen in while she slept the better. She hadn’t forgotten her suspicion. 

All too soon her watch was up since they had added Blackwall to the rotation. She considered taking Bull's watch as well, but that would only lead to more questions she didn't wish to answer.

Rather than linger under Bull's watchful eye, she reluctantly retreated to her tent at the end of her watch. No longer able to deny her exhaustion, or manage to keep her eyes open she drifted off.

* * *

A golden field greeted her, thousands of small waving blades welcoming her return. The scorching sun lulled her into a languid repose as she couldn't help but sink to the ground under the weight of the laziness that hung in the air once more. Even panic, anxiety, were sentiments far too quick to survive in this place. She was consumed by a confidence that she was alone, sparing no thought that he wouldn’t be here. Her thoughts were sluggish yet sharp as they finally managed to surface. 

_Why here?_

A lone cloud marched across the sky.

 _Why dream of his memory?_

The shadow of some bird wheeling high against the sun crossed over her.

 _And why dream of it by herself?_

The sun looked as if it hadn’t moved, though she had the distinct feeling she had. As if the sun was an answer and she was slowly reaching for it. Realizing her hand was actually outstretched towards it. It was decidedly odd, yet it felt like there was something important she should be doing. It was incredibly difficult to even be bothered by it, so she lay content amid the grasses, letting her arm fall across her eyes. After all there were far worse things to dream about and anything pressing could wait until later.

* * *

Varric watched them all as he wove ink and words, yet he watched her the most. As he sat behind her on the ridiculous creature she rode he was afforded the perfect vantage point to overhear her usual grumbling. He couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay when he heard the stream of oddly arranged words she began spouting. Risking opening his mouth to ask her what that was all about, and surprised when she replied without hesitation “I’m trying to think of a name for this thing.” This ‘thing’ being the aforementioned screaming deer they rode on. “I’m leaning towards ‘bucket’ but ‘biscuit’ is nice too.” Bucket-biscuit chose that moment to scream it’s thoughts on the subject. He chuckled after he uncovered his ears, wondering if she even realized she was opening up to them more. She was far more talkative than she was all those months ago in the Hinterlands when she had been so stiff and distant, or at least she was in between her sullen silences. Despite the fact he was a little terrified of meeting her gaze now, it was good to see. The things he began to hear about her from others brightened the picture of her greatly. Though, it came with a price, the more she appeared as a person, the harder it was to write about. He’d written enough tragedies, and if he bet on anything, it would be that she was headed for more. He wondered if her change had been brought about more by Chuckles or the covert efforts of the Kid. Either way, he now sincerely hoped she never found out about the running bets they had going about her sleep talk, worried she’d shut herself away again. The words he'd caught when he woke this morning were troubling. Not the usual lighthearted silliness Chuckles brought him. He wondered if that was normal. She'd repeated it over and over under her breath, _‘I have to save them.’_ There was a desperate tone to her words that set him worrying. After all, if he and Hawke hadn’t uncovered that Warden prison… 

Chuckles was another matter entirely. Even Broody had the courtesy to break Hawke’s heart in person. It had taken years for the two of them to finally come around, for Hawke to stop shooting pointed looks, and for Broody to stop looking guilty in return. Maybe he'd surprise them all and return with some grand romantic gesture, to sweep her off her feet once more. Though he hoped it wouldn’t take years, he wasn’t sure any of them even had the _luxury_ of years. He wrote lightly about it, as if the ink would seal some unhappy fate. 

“Bucket has a nice ring to it.” Her amused agreement eased his mind.

* * *

She stood on the hill overlooking the lake, or at least she was fairly certain it was a lake and not just a formidable wall of rain heading their way. Most of her things- pelt included, tucked away safely in her pack to keep dry. Bull gave her one of those disgruntled looks he usually tried to hide, “Seriously Boss?” She shook her head, “I know, I know.” Dorian was positively mutinous. The droop of his moustache set atop the perfectly miserable expression on his face really summed up how she felt about the whole situation. Blackwall was arguably faring much better than the rest of them, having not had the pleasure of the experience that was essentially the Fallow Mire… Again. Varric had already wandered into a puddle that was almost deeper than he was tall. His displeasure went without saying.

Rain. Rain and walking corpses. Why did it always have to be that combination? Why couldn’t it be sunshine and corpses? Or rain and literally anything but corpses? No. Scratch that, there was probably something worse out there than corpses. Though- she had finally gotten the distraction she wanted. She made a mental note to be careful what she wished for as she frowned at the green glow coming off the lake. Underwater fade rifts definitely counted as worse. Her disbelief mounting as the obvious difficulty of the situation settled in. The steady rain tallied seconds against her sodden armor. 

“YOU HAVE **GOT** TO BE KIDDING ME.”

“Afraid not Inquisitor. Crestwood was the site of a major flood during the Blight.” She turned to the familiar scout. “Harding right? How is it they keep sending us to these places?” The scout laughed, “It comes with the job I guess, though they could increase my hazard pay.” She didn’t miss a beat handing over her entire coin purse, “Done.” The scout protested, but she waved it off. “I don’t even know why they give me money, I can’t pay corpses to lie down and give up. Keep it, please.” The scout relented, and she felt vaguely guilty. Just when she thought she understood customs and courtesy she was proven wrong, clearly having put the woman in an awkward position. Still, Harding undoubtedly could put it to better use than her. 

They left their mounts and packs to the safety of Harding’s camp, trudging off through the mud towards the village.

\---

“Did you see how those Grey Wardens saved me from those corpses? They’re _amazing_. I’m going to see if they’re looking for recruits.” 

“Er… That’s not the best idea right now. I wouldn’t join them if I were you.” She could hear Blackwall grunt in disagreement, running a hand down her face in exasperation- forgetting it was still covered in mud and creator’s knows what else from their last fight. She and a markedly more reserved Varric had explained everything they knew on the way. That he had the nerve to still disagree at a time like this made her wonder…

The elf regarded her warily. “Well you’re not me. The Wardens are _heroes_. With all that’s happening- I want to help people like they do.” 

She sighed. It wasn’t likely she could change the woman’s mind, she wasn’t even sure if she should. “What’s your name?”

“I am Jana, and you… You! Wait, you’re the Inquisitor! Forgive me your Worship, I meant no offense.” 

It further soured her mood, if the determined elf wished to be angry with her it shouldn’t matter what her title was. “None taken, Jana. Do what you think is best, just… be careful. I don’t think joining the wardens is something you can take back.” 

Blackwall grumbled some more and she began to regret bringing him along. Quickly saying her farewell to Jana before trotting off towards the village, she was hastened further by sounds of fighting.

She'd cut down the last corpse when her companions caught up to her, Dorian ready with a complaint. "By all means, if you don't need us then I'll just head back to where it's warm and dry." She shot him a warning look, one he returned with interest. She relented with a terse apology, trudging ahead to find this mayor. The quicker this was over with the better.

* * *

She and Varric were in agreement. The mayor had definitely been hiding something. She’d fixed him with a probing stare as the man descended into a nervous fit. He babbled brokenly about bandits, dam controls and darkspawn. She pulled out a map, pouring over it as she asked the man if any settlements lay on the bank directly downstream. He confirmed what she feared, that there was a small settlement in the path of the flood she was planning to unleash. Great, she would have to send one of their scouts to warn the villagers. That trip would take several days there and back. Though there was plenty to attend in the meantime, it still felt like wasted time. 

Bandits, wyverns, undead, a reportedly enormous dragon, not to mention she still had to find where Hawke and her contact were hiding out, hoping they had escaped the notice of the other Wardens in the area. 

The fade rift would have to wait until she got the all-clear. 

So it was that they stood before the rotting wooden door to the fort that they all geared up to take it, decidedly happier at the prospect of sleeping somewhere dry once again should they succeed. She gave the signal and Bull charged straight through the flimsy door. 

“MABARI! TAKE DOWN THOSE DAMNED DOGS FIRST!” 

She laughed freely as she tore a swath through their enemies, leaping lightly from one savage cut to the next. Reveling in the tactical free-for-all she’d accidentally enabled. The two warriors confusing the bandits on who was the bigger threat as she and Varric capitalized on their hesitation while Dorian cast light barriers that were hardly necessary and fire mines to further fuel the chaos. 

The fight to the leader had been remarkably quick. And she rode the high of adrenaline for quite a while afterwards, grinning for the first time in days. Assessing the fort quickly for any lingering threats before she had Dorian, Blackwall, and Varric head to the village to tell them if they needed a place to stay the fort was open to them. She and Bull ran off to Harding’s camp to fetch their mounts and packs as well as to inform them that they took the fort, and of the need to send someone downstream immediately.

* * *

Days had passed and still it rained and still she thought often of Solas. He was still very far away. The sheer amount of constants she faced on this trip was ridiculous. Though, she once again took comfort in the small tug, despite his distance, it meant he was still there somewhere.

Many of the villagers took up her offer, populating the fort, helping to protect it. Though the mayor hadn't joined them and in the days since it had been brought to her attention that he'd fled the village. She had asked the remaining scouts to investigate when they had the time.

She would have commiserated with her companions that she forgot what the sun looked like- yet it was so far from the truth she couldn't bring herself to even try to lie about it. Every night the sun beat down on her in dreams, every night the memory, every night the feeling of significance grew stronger. It still felt less pressing than the present nonetheless, though it consumed her thoughts often, well aware a dream this persistent had to mean something. 

Each day they waged war on the ravaged landscape. And they had made considerable progress. Closing half a dozen fade rifts, taking out an entire red templar encampment, and even rounding up several bandits that had been away from the fort when she took it. The wyvern nest had only fueled Bull's excitement that there was a dragon in the area. Though, she'd turned him down hard on facing it. Much to everyone else's collective relief.

She couldn't deny the danger it posed, but they had other matters to attend first. The scout still hadn’t returned from the village, though she was aware strings had been pulled from Leliana and Josephine for compensation for the destruction she was about to write upon their home. It sent a pang of grief through her. It was becoming an uncomfortable theme that to save- she first had to destroy. She wondered not for the first time if her clan had been right about her. Yet it was progress. Grudgingly slow progress, but enough for now.

She was more than happy to leave all her concerns behind as they went out in search of Hawke once more. And after several false starts and more than a few caves that yielded nothing but the odd refugee and gigantic spiders, finally the unmistakable voice of the woman they searched for called down sharply from a cave she'd nearly missed entirely.

“It’s about time! We were about to leave, we can’t hide here much longer.” 

She sighed as she drew level with the woman. “Oh you know how it is, you help one person kill some corpses, and next thing you know there’s a fortress to liberate and a hole in the veil that’s somehow not draining the lake it’s sitting at the bottom of.” Hawke’s expression softened, “I sure don’t envy you. Hey Varric! Wow, you look like hell, I haven’t seen that much mud on you since-”

“That cave on the wounded coast. Yeah, don’t remind me.” 

Hawke chuckled before turning her attention back to the reason they were all here. “The Warden is at the back of the cave, go on ahead. Varric, can I talk to you for a minute?”

She left the two of them behind, forging on ahead as her remaining companions followed after. She warily eased open the door near the back of the cave, taking in the sight of what was clearly a camp, yet the Warden wasn’t in her field of view and he didn’t make himself known. Signaling for the others to wait she stalked forward, her hand settled on a dagger just before she saw the sword point angled at her neck. She reflexively lit the dagger with a molten sheen of fire as her blade met his, violently shoving the point away from her as she spun to meet the man. A strange sort of recognition crossed his face as he lowered his sword, yet kept it bared in her direction. She mirrored the move just as Hawke burst in the room, “I leave for one minute and you’re already at odds?!” The woman shaped ball of fury rounded on the man, “What did you say to her?!” 

“I have said nothing. I haven’t gotten to be where I am due to of a lack of caution.” 

“Well do me a favor. Stuff your caution and refrain from attacking the only person willing to listen to us so far!” 

“You’re the Inquisitor Hawke spoke of?” She noted the tone of disbelief in his voice, though he sheathed his sword anyways. “I am.” She quenched her dagger, returning it to its holster on her thigh. “And you are?” 

“Warden Loghain Mac Tir.”

It was her turn to be surprised. His expression darkened slightly, “I see you’ve heard the stories. _The Traitor Teryn_. Oh yes, I’ve heard _all_ the names.” His admission deflated her posturing immediately, though she still held his gaze. Sizing up the stern man that was living her increasingly likely future, "Names are overrated. I am Revas, and I am glad to finally meet you. I understand you have insight into the creature that's determined to kill me and then plunge the rest of the world into chaos?"

“Corypheus.” 

She nodded, “Corypheus.”

Loghain forged on with an explanation of the creature, of his efforts to warn Weisshaupt, and his subsequent dismissal as they were content to consider the matter over and done with. Then he explained his fear, that Corypheus, like an Archdemon could potentially survive mortal wounds. Her eyes went wide as the explanation fell into place, it made sense, how Corypheus survived the encounter with Hawke, how he’d survived the Conclave. She blurted out “How do you kill something that can’t die?” He looked like he expected the question. “If it proves necessary I will tell you, but until then that is a closely kept secret among Wardens. You'll have to understand I can't tell you everything." She nodded, disappointed yet slightly thankful her parents hadn't named her Curiosity. The amount of unanswered questions that had steadily been piling up around her would be the death of her one way or another. Loghain interrupted her thoughts once more, "There is something more you should know though, a short while ago every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling.”

“The Calling? Is that... as ominous as it sounds?”

“The Calling is a portent, like crows circling the battlefield before the fighting. It tells the Warden that his time has come. First are the dreams, then a voice whispers in the back of the Warden’s head, just at the edge of hearing. That is when the Warden goes down to the Deep Roads… to die with honor.”

“Then, you hear it?”

“Yes, it is like an itch at the back of my mind. At times it’s barely there at all. But then I find myself starting to hum it under my breath. It is vile. I can understand why so many Wardens have gone mad from fear of it.” His tone conveyed his disgust just as well as his words and she couldn’t help but shudder at the ghost of creeping whispers he conveyed. 

She turned to Blackwall, “Is it affecting you as well? Is that why you’re so obsessed with dying?” _Ah yes_ , her mouth was going to get her in trouble one day, she hadn’t intended to divulge that last bit, but it suddenly made quite a bit of sense. Yet, what didn’t make sense was his lack of anger… he was- _Oh to the void with the man_ he was definitely being evasive again. Loghain seemed to share her observation as Blackwall deflected her question. Why now? Were Wardens always such a distrustful sort, even amongst each other? It did seem likely. Maybe Loghain would tell her more later. He was after all, much more forthcoming with answers. 

She and Hawke listened with increasing anxiety as Loghain described the lengths which Warden Commander Clarel was going to, turning to blood magic in a desperate bid to stop all future Blights. All the while she was unwittingly playing right into Corypheus’ hands. It was far more disturbing than she imagined. 

She said farewell to both Hawke and Loghain relieved to have more information and that they parted on better terms than they met. Resolving to send a bird to Leliana immediately on their return to Caer Bronach, they needed all the information they could get on the Western Approach before heading there. 

As they trudged off towards the Fens she finally broke the leaden silence. “You know, don’t take this the wrong way... but do you ever feel like this is just too much to fix? There’s so much I don’t know. Blights, Grey Wardens, Darkspawn Magisters… This Calling… this is _not_ my area of expertise.” 

“Trickster, I don't think this is anyone's area of expertise.”

* * *

The dragon had _definitely_ caught sight of them. Bull shouted over the roar of wind and rushing wings, “WE GOT THIS BOSS! IT’LL BE GREAT!” She shouted back **“YOU DO REALIZE I CAN’T HEAL WITH THESE _RIGHT_?!”** She made a stabbing motion with her daggers, **“WE’RE ALMOST ENTIRELY OFFENSIVE THIS IS A BAD-”**

The dragon cut her off as it finally dove to the ground in the midst of them, the great gust of wind from its wings scattering them. She quickly regained her footing, casting her magic about herself and Varric, unable to see where the others were. She dashed straight at the dragon against all reason, briefly wishing she had a bigger weapon.

And of course it was a lightning elemental. _In the rain_. She’d finally found her _’worse’_ combination. If they ever made it out of this alive she’d… The dragon spun, it’s tail slamming harshly into her midsection, sending her to the ground winded. She grit her teeth, now was not the time to make promises. 

When the dragon finally collapsed so did she. Not bothering to fight the ground as it rushed up to meet her, flung from the creature’s neck in its death throes, her daggers still deeply embedded. She’d been flirting with an empty mana pool for several minutes now and she didn’t have the strength to do much but lay there and breathe, thankful she wasn’t dead. She’d lost sight of the others, hoping they were alright. The different moans and groans punctuated by the ridiculous commotion Bull was making seemed to indicate life. “Hey! Everyone still alive?” Three different pained affirmations followed by a “YEAAAAH!” met her question and she breathed a pained sigh of relief. 

She eventually pried herself loose from the puddle she had landed in that was far more mud than water. A slightly hysterical giggle left her as she climbed to her feet. Thankful she didn’t wear boots as she watched Blackwall fight a losing battle with the muck for his. Dorian had somehow escaped the mud completely, “Dorian! What’s your secret? Is there some Tevinter mud-barrier I don’t know about?”

“Some of us are smart enough not to go running _towards_ dragons. It’s easy to avoid, you should try it sometime.” He handed her a shining blue potion. “Oh no don’t make me take this, these are awful!” He gave her a pointed look, or at least she was sure it was pointed. Some of the muck in her hair had inopportunely chosen to slide down her face leaving her sputtering and blinded. “If you pass out _I’m_ not carrying you back like _that_. Your choice.” She grumbled, roughly wiping her face and blindly fumbling with the corked bottle. The grit of dirt in her mouth did nothing to improve the experience as everything sang metal once again. She flopped back to the ground as everything began spinning.

"Oh you're hopeless. Stay still, if you get any of that on me I'll never forgive you."

"Thank you Dorian."

She was relieved to be able to see once again, and more relieved to see Varric unscathed followed by Bull- who was somehow completely covered in dragon blood. "Uh… How?"

He shrugged, "The stomach's where all the good stuff is." She didn't get a chance to ask what good stuff could possibly be as he turned to Dorian.

“So- _Hey_.”

“You can’t be serious, someone please tell me he’s joking.” 

“What? Boss is taken and you’re the next prettiest. Don’t tell me you haven’t even considered it?” Dorian looked deeply offended, “ _Next prettiest_?! I'll have you know I am by far the most attractive person here!” She fought a laugh when she saw the trap before Dorian did. “So you’ve considered it. Good to know.” Bull winked, or blinked. She was never quite sure of the distinction but it looked like a more suggestive gesture than normal. “No that’s it, someone else share his room tonight.” She made the mistake of laughing, “Is that a volunteer I hear?” That sobered her up, “No, uh no. Varric?” 

“Don’t look at me Trickster, looks like we’re all sharing. Tiny can uh… have his privacy.” 

“Why Varric- I think this is the only time you haven’t wanted to know more.” 

“There’s nothing going on there I want to know more about.” 

The admission provoked laughs from most everyone, even Blackwall- who’d finally had both boots once again. Who knew killing a dragon was exactly what they all needed? 

She’d finally divested herself of what had to be half her weight in sludge and retrieved her daggers from the dragon’s corpse. ‘Good stuff’ apparently meant spoils the dragon had swallowed in it’s reign of terror. They picked over the things that were still useful before dragging themselves back to Caer Bronach. 

\---

It had seemed like a good idea in theory, but she honestly didn’t feel like sharing a room with that many people, especially not one of which she was mostly at odds with- who happened to snore very loudly. So after she’d washed up and changed into her spare set of dry clothes she wandered while everyone else drank and held an impromptu celebration over the death of the dragon. The amalgam of villagers and scouts held her interest for a short while before she moved on. It was still raining against all reason, yet she was able to find a reasonably dry and quiet corner out of sight. 

Her bone deep exhaustion beckoned her down as a fitful sleep reached up to take her.

* * *

If she had any hope that she'd finally dream of something different then it was immediately dashed. The same dream, his memory in the midst of brightest day greeted her once more. Most often she dreamed of the gilded light of day, yet occasionally the silver mirror of night set the stage. Night was her favorite, the lightness to it, the soft rustle of grass, the way the moonlight lit the shifting sea. When it was night she would lay back and stare at the strange orientation of her old friends in the sky. She'd often watch Satina chase her sister from horizon to horizon. Yet, the feeling of importance had grown imperative enough that this time she'd finally gathered the resolve to fight against the stagnant comfort of the golden field. She had often wondered just how far the dream went, yet she had never made it far before succumbing. This time the strange will whispered against her neck drove her further and she managed to make it to the distant forest at the edge of the field. Massive trees loomed high over everything, they looked _startlingly_ familiar. As she crossed beneath their shade the oppressive weight left her, in its stead was a swift current. Time was a strange river here, the feeling lending swiftness to her steps as she ran with a light heart through the forest. The current slowed to a meandering pull as she neared a clearing. She halted abruptly against the pull as she realized it was unmistakably _THE_ clearing. This was where she had met Fen'Harel, this was where they had dreamed. It looked... different during the day, less ominous. There was a youth to this forest, wild and proud- not unlike the younger version of Solas she’d seen. She sat slowly on the edge, contemplating what this could mean. Her thoughts flowing as swift as the current that eddied around her.

It dawned on her then that there was a feeling that remained constant throughout it all. The skin deep buzz that clung to her, it felt… almost alive somehow. No matter what the terrain imparted, that subtle vibration was always there. “That's odd. Is this how the world feels to him?" She tilted her head, concentrating on the feel of it, "Or is this how the world felt back then?"

_"Yes."_

She stiffened, mentally probing for the origin of the voices that spoke as one. They had an oddly resonant tone... Yet she could feel no presence. She slowly scanned the forest, yet nothing made itself known. "This is how it felt in the past?"

_"Yes. The past was different. Few in waking remember."_

"So… you are not in waking?"

_"No."_

"Then, you are a spirit?"

_"Yes."_

Oh. Huh, was this one of her weird dreams? Was she supposed to free something? Nothing had ever talked to her in dreams like this. How could she free something in the past... Unless-

"Am I supposed to free the wolf?"

She could hear the smiles in the voices that spoke, _"Yes."_

"How can I do that from the past?"

_"You must know the past to free the future."_

She froze at those words. _The past._ The things she knew, the magics long forgotten, things _she_ had forgotten. "You-”

_"Wake up Revas."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up. The rest of Crestwood (UGH I KNOW) and the return to Skyhold.
> 
> *Also will contain Masked Empire Spoilers.


	20. In Which A Man Returned Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flood begets a drought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100k words! Wooooo!
> 
> I know I am absolutely the worst at replying to comments, I just wanted to take a second to thank you all for your kind words- that quite frankly- leave me uncharacteristically speechless. I was not expecting any of this. In fact I only had the courage to post the first chapter because I had been drinking(big surprise haha).  
> So thank you all for following along. It means quite a lot to me.
> 
> Also, see ya canon! I hope that’s apparent by now, that their relationship is not canon, but that most everything else that happens is. 
> 
> Masked Empire spoilers- that I hopefully haven’t totally fucked up. The book is still sitting unread on my coffee table. I’ll get to it before Halamshiral. Unless I’ve fucked something up, in which case I’ll just read the damn thing and fix it.

_"Atish’all vallem."_

_"Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris."_

Even speaking her name in such an innocuous manner quickened his pulse. It further outlined his reason for risking everything to return here in his weakened state.

If this old sanctuary had been compromised, if the pathway of eluvians had been changed or locked, or worse- if they changed while he was still here... It would make leaving difficult, and a lengthier process than he currently had time for. It was a danger he would have to endure. He had been fortunate one of his other agents had been able to overhear the password to the eluvians, the woman who held the stone was thankfully far too trusting with some of her spies. Yet the password alone was not enough. It was a bitter failure to bear. He did not dare underestimate the cunning of the woman who held the keystone- the stone which he regrettably lacked. It made him little more than a guest in his own ruin.

There were several uncomfortable parallels that lay there and two uncomfortable failures. The thought gave him pause as he halted his advance. One marked, one unmarked. Both carried something meant for him, both were set in his path, and both were poised to shake the world for their people. He wondered briefly what would come to pass should they ever meet. He shook off his curiosity, passing quickly over the shadow of grief that lay within- now _he_ was in Felassan's place.

He directed his thoughts away, to focus on an older, more welcoming pain. One of those problems would be rectified soon enough, his agents already well infiltrated into her network of spies.

He need only wait until the time was right.

The other- _Revas_ was the reason why he was here. It was not enough that she so effortlessly changed his opinion of her, of the world, she had begun changing _him_. It was a terrifying prospect. One he had once welcomed, and long since given up on. The world had suffered enough from his first change of heart. It would not long endure another.

A tired sigh left him as he walked onwards over stones as fractured as the proud people who once walked them, his hand trailing the ancient worn walls- laden with equally worn memories he couldn’t afford to forget. As he walked the path once more, the familiar weight of his burdens threatened to bow his back, as each step forward drew him ages into the past. He’d chosen this place to dream in for that reason. Fortified by walls he bled for- his people bled for. He needed the reminder.

Yet it all came back to Revas- Freedom and the woman that embodied it. How they seemed to be on opposing sides of the same nature he wasn’t sure. He felt uncertain in that bitter certainty- that in his pursuit of one, he would surely lose the other. It was strange to be so comfortable in her sentiments, in her thoughts, in her heart. It was as if the space between her arms belonged to him as surely as the space he currently traversed. Even the threads that bound them were not the confinement he had feared, but a form of strength he had come to lean on, perhaps too often. She carried him lighter than any of the burdens that weighed on her shoulders. Burdens that should be beyond her. Yet she stubbornly forged on, unknowingly lighting fires in those that followed in her wake. Lighting a fire in him. She made him feel whole, both better and worse- all at once reconnecting him to the self he tried to bury and reinforcing the path he intended to walk. His distance from her was both a freedom of it’s own and a terrible weight in his chest. _Longing._

Yet he couldn't help but doubt in spite of it all. After all, how could he bind one such as her? It shouldn't be possible. It should twist the nature of what had graced her. Perhaps she was not touched by freedom at all. Perhaps she was an unwitting pawn in some darker game being played against him. It was possible his heart had blinded him to the danger she potentially posed, though he felt confident he would have known by now if she was intentionally malicious.

Servitude would fit, as would Subjugation. Both were wayward aspects of Freedom, it was possible one could be cunning enough to hide its true nature from him. He had given her the choice to be free of him at every turn, and still she chose _him_ , seemingly willingly.

He couldn't help but question her judgement.

He sorely needed guidance.

He strode onwards, reliving his battles at each turn. For all he had sacrificed of others- of himself, it was nothing in the face of what he had wrought upon his people. What they had lost... And yet still he managed to find someone willing to keep him, faults and all. It had to be too good to be true. Perhaps it was the anchor, her markings that drew her to him against her will.

It was a bitter thought, one made no less fitting by the fact it was a pain he surely deserved.

He came at last to the room he sought, still hidden securely behind a false wall. His hand drifted to the sorrowful stones, his touch dispelling the wards that sealed it. The familiar welcome washed over him as the stone gave inwards. He stepped through and resealed the door.

A pool of memory stretched out before him. The soft green glow of it cast a dim verdant light over the walls. He recast the old wards before settling down before the font, taking a deep breath before wrapping the Veil about himself, plunging his consciousness onward into the Fade. He willed his spirit to wander, to seek out the domain he sought. Slowly the vast hall of an old memory materialized around him, towering shelves of knowledge that once lay in organized paths now lie twisted into a labyrinth as time wove on without it. It grew wilder with each passing year in the presence of the Veil, and he wondered how long before even her domain succumbed to the treacherously shifting pathways that became increasingly prevalent in the older, more resistant, spaces of the Fade. There was still time yet, though he did not have forever.

He looked over the shadows cast by the dim candlelight of the hall, searching for the woman who hopefully held answers to the questions that brought him. A voice called out from behind him and he smiled at the softness, the strained whisper of it as though seekers of knowledge still learned in her halls.

_“It has been a while my friend.”_

A small sad smile met him as he turned to face the woman he sought. Her expression evolved into one of intense scrutiny as she settled down on a polished wooden bench.

_“You are troubled more than usual.”_

He nodded, a rueful smile in return, _“You are as observant as ever, Wisdom.”_

_“Tell me- What troubles you?”_

He sighed, knowing how embarrassingly youthful it would sound, _“There is a woman.”_

A knowing smile met his words, and Wisdom’s gaze drifted downward to the token he wore openly, even here. Protective in its attachment- framed around the burden that lay weighted over his chest. _“So there is.”_

 _“Come”_ she beckoned him. _“Sit with me, old wolf. Tell me about this woman who has laid claim to your heart.”_

* * *

A deafening roar consumed her, Revas panicked, flailing against a flood that wasn’t there. She sprawled forward across the damp stone, the sudden chill of it shaking the weight of sleep that gripped her. She sucked in a breath, finally awake enough to realize she wasn’t truly drowning. An eye opened warily, not met with a piercing dawn- but the familiar slate grey sky that poured its wrath upon the fortress. It seemed ‘worse’ was another constant on this trip of hers. The relentless drizzle had been annoying enough, but this? It was an uncomfortable reminder of the deluge she was about to set loose upon the river below. Yet for all its violent threat- she would soon accomplish the destruction the sky could only dream of. _Dreams-_ She sat up sharply as her drowsiness fully withdrew its hold on her. She didn’t remember dreaming. _At all._ No golden field, no weightless night. What changed? Why hadn't she dreamed of it like every other night? She stretched absently as she pulled at strings, a sigh of relief when she found them. They were still bonded. She frowned. If not that, then what? She felt like something important had happened... It felt like waking from a dream where she was supposed to save something- but what? The more she tried to grasp what it was the quicker it slipped away.

She was further pulled from her thoughts as a growing commotion snagged her attention. A stream of grumbling as dark as the sky issued forth only to be lost in the rain, she fought her stiff muscles, gathering herself up to deal with it.

The scout she sent downstream had returned and everyone was on the edge of frantic as they searched the fortress for her. She apologized, profusely to those who were now drenched, suddenly realizing what was off about the scenario. They must have known to always go to Solas to find her. She sighed deeply, making a note to remember to start telling people when she wandered off. It did nothing to improve her rapidly darkening mood, and neither did the miserably cold breakfast.

The scout gave her report that all had left the village and that there was nothing immediately downstream. They also stated that Leliana had sent word to other far flung communities to be careful. She made another note to remember to thank the spymaster as she steeled herself to face a day of water.

\---

She couldn't blame them for staying behind, for grasping the last bit of comfort that was being dry before they headed to Old Crestwood.

"How you holding up Boss?"

"Oh just fine. Lovely. I'm pretty certain at this point it's only raining because I'm here."

He chuckled while they wound a leisurely pace far more fitting a lazy summer day as they crossed the broad shoulder of the dam- her initial haste given up on. Running wasn't going to make them any drier. "That's not what I meant, but I think you know that."

She fiddled with a strand of hair that had stuck to her face, "Yeah I know, I just- would rather not think about it now. After all I do have a lake to upend." She glanced aside at him, wondering if she should ask him or not, and she was quickly saved the trouble of deciding.

"Might as well say it Boss, you're not very good at holding your questions in."

She smiled in spite of herself, _oh how true that had been lately_. "How are you holding up? And uh... Is Dorian ok? He's been, hmmm, really evasive lately."

"I'm good, it rains like this in Seheron. It just makes for dangerous fights, can't see your enemy, can't keep your footing. The shit you get into is dangerous enough without making it a bigger challenge." He paused as she slipped, quickly righting herself. "Exactly. And Dorian will be fine when he faces what he's running from. Though, maybe you should hold off on the jokes about the two of us. He's not in a good place to handle that right now."

"Oh." Her stomach plummeted as she considered what she might have put him through. "I can't apologize outright can I? That will make it worse won't it?"

"Yeah, just give him time. He'll come around."

They walked on in silence, or at least any sound they made didn't register over the din. Perhaps she could apologize covertly, he had gotten her that wonderful book, maybe she could get him something. Though, aside from the man’s preference for warmth he only seemed to have an interest in alcohol. It seemed like a bad idea to feed that indulgence, though maybe she could drink it with him- yeah to keep an eye on him. A small smile rose on her face, they had far too much in common on that front. She drifted idly towards the edge, her curiosity getting the better of sense. She wasn't normally one to be afraid of heights but one look over the wall and after that she kept a firm line down the middle. It was a long way down and the wind driven rain only made the stretch of slick stone that more treacherous. Though she didn't particularly like how precarious the tavern that housed the controls looked.

She turned back to bull, "You'll keep an eye on Dorian won't you?"

He donned a broad smirk, "Always do Boss."

She palmed her face. "Oh Creators, I'm sorry."

"I'm just messing with you. C'mon let’s get this over with."

She heaved her shoulder into the tavern door, it was curiously stuck. The scouts didn't mention anything about it in their report. As the door gave in she learned why. A pair of hastily clad humans were attempting to disappear into the floor in front of the lit hearth. The door had been propped up with a chair.

She stared dumbfounded as Bull roared with laughter. They were absolutely mortified, and she covered her grin with her marked hand, her words rolling with the laugh she fought to contain. "How'd you even get in here? The fortress entrance was locked."

"I-inquisitor! We uh went around, the long way."

“Wait really? Through the mud? That’s, ah- dedication.”

She chuckled as they bickered amongst themselves until she caught them planning to move their ‘quality time’ to a cave. "No don't go, stay. This is safer and drier than some cave, though once I leave I probably won't be able to buy you much time before someone else heads this way. So uh... _Yeah_. Best of luck and please wait until I leave. We shouldn't be here long."

She left them behind with their stumbling thanks. Stopping only to grab up a dusty bottle of what was hopefully alcohol left behind on a shelf. She would definitely want that for after. As she took in the sight of the controls she was thankful at least Bull had come with her, not entirely certain she could have budged them by herself. The scouts had been right though, the mechanism was in curiously good condition for being wrecked by darkspawn. The gears groaned as they woke from their slumber, they threw all their weight into turning the wheel, and the deep shudder felt through the flagstones seemed to suggest they had been successful, well that or the dam was falling apart.

They made a quick retreat back out into the rain, but not before she caught Bull winking at the two humans. She popped open the dusty bottle as they leaned over the lakeside wall, watching the waters slowly recede to keep her mind from focusing on where it was all going. Drowning her thoughts in the generously spiced drink, it filled her with a satisfying warmth she didn’t think could survive out here. She reluctantly handed the rest to Bull, knowing she shouldn’t drink the whole thing and it wasn't long after that they could see the outline of a rundown village surfacing, and she figured they had stalled long enough.

\---

She was beginning to question her decision not to wear boots. Slipping over the slimy lake bed, sinking down in the places where there were no stones, there was something unnervingly gross about it. As if the lake itself was working against them, trying to swallow them up to add them to its arsenal of undead. She wondered if the others had picked up on it or if her fears were just playing at her mind. The Veil was nearly as thin here as it had been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Either way, she felt she’d likely never be clean again, a sentiment that Dorian surely shared by the look of extreme displeasure he wore. She was suddenly very envious of Varric. She'd let him turn back to the fortress after he sunk down into the silt up to his armpits. Though, she had no wish to recreate what lead up to that decision. Bull was under constant threat of losing his boots and more but then again he weighed the most out of all of them. Blackwall had so far managed to keep his, though he drooped as much as his sodden beard.

They picked through the muck as quickly as they could manage, closing the additional fade rifts that had appeared with difficulty, activating a curious amount of artifacts, and wending through the sunken structures as they looked for anything that might explain what had happened here. The voice that drifted angrily over the flats did nothing to prepare her for the spirit that sat yelling at various objects to move. It was almost comical until she realized it was likely not here on purpose. Though clearly, it was some variety of _purpose_. It only served to further upset her constant battle to keep her footing when it addressed her. "You! Yes you- Tell me why these things resist my command!" She explained its predicament as best she could and eventually consented to follow its instruction to free it. To destroy the demon of rage, despite the rumblings of dissent from her companions.

It's parting words didn't help much either, and they occupied her long after they discovered the evidence that the mayor had flooded Old Crestwood, long after they'd descended into the damp dwarven ruins. _"You are unsuited to the role. The shape you try to fit will destroy you. I know this, for I am Command and you- are not."_ It chilled her more than the damp stones, more than the knowledge of just why there were so many undead.

The demon of rage was enormous, a towering wall of molten flames threaded through with veins of fire-blackened shadow. It appeared to have fed well on the oppressive rage that lingered in this place of death, a sentiment that must have consumed the villagers as they cursed their mayor with their last breaths. She wished she'd crafted a new bow. Her normal tactics were at a distinct disadvantage here. Ice was not her strongest element, and neither was it Dorian’s. In the end they chose to ambush it. Waiting flat up against the walls as it patrolled it’s lair, springing their trap once it emerged from the hall. A flurry of carefully calculated attacks ensued. The two warriors kept its attention; Dorian utilized quick succession strikes of lightning, while she cut cruelly at whatever parts of the demon she could safely reach. It took most of her focus to keep up the layer of ice she cast over her daggers. The shocking chill of it rent the creature asunder with each cut, yet it had been a mistake, her efforts drawing far too much attention. Her good luck didn’t last.

The demon flared in size before she could complete her last cut, her dagger sucked in and her arm with it. The enchantment of ice winked out immediately as her focus broke. The flames of Rage engulfed her arm as she barely registered Bull’s shout over her own screams. His attempt to draw the demon’s attention was drowned out by her own involuntary effort. It’s hateful eyes bore into her as her own went wide. _This was it_ , this is what would finally do her in. Her voice carried a small plea that was lost amid the maelstrom of sound and sudden shock of cold. _“Solas.”_ The tug at her heart was almost as cruel as the floor that rushed up to meet her. She was swallowed up by the unexpected dark.

* * *

Old gnarled trees rose up around her with a deafening groan, twisting skyward as their limbs wove through each other, creating a natural thorned barrier. Their shadows falling upon empty aravels scattered about like dry leaves, nestled among their massive roots. All at once the trees bore deep emerald leaves, unfurling before her eyes as dawn broke and was obscured. It was as if the forest adapted to keep it’s shadows. It was an old place, one that suddenly didn’t fit. This was the edge of the Tirashan… but why here? Why now? Was she dying- or already dead? She grasped her right hand reflexively, feeling for the burn that hadn’t followed her, turning a slow circle as she surveyed her surroundings. It was a reflection of a camp she once called home, back when she was still very young and with her clan. She wasn’t sure if the fact it was empty was a relief or suggestive of something far more sinister. Wandering freely among the empty aravels, she pondered curiously at the strange setting for a time.

“So tell me Da'len, has the Dread Wolf caught your scent?”

She stiffened involuntarily at the voice, her anxiety and anger on the rise- threatening to overwhelm her. So it was to be nightmares then? It figured.

“Da'len. It is rude to ignore your hahren. I see your time spent away from us has not improved your manners.”

She took a deep breath and turned towards the woman. She looked just as wizened as she remembered, the stern lines of her face contorting the woman's faded vallaslin. But this was a dream, it wasn't really her, she didn't have to rise to the woman's prodding.

“Keeper Deshanna, you are not my hahren. And I am no da'len, I passed your rite and many more of my own since then. If you do not call me by my name then I will not entertain this nightmare.”

“Nightmare? Interesting. Very well, Revas- though you have not answered my question. Has he caught your scent?”

She frowned at the woman. “He already had my scent. That is what you told me. You said I was the reason for the misfortune of the clan.” She cocked her head, staring through the woman- this was _her_ dream right? Her subconscious should know that. Why was this aspect of the woman playing dumb?

“Have you twisted him away from us yet? Have you turned his gaze from us?”

She narrowed her eyes. That was not the keeper Deshanna she knew. Whatever that creature was, she needed to find out more- Especially if it asked about Solas. It could be dangerous. There was a doublespeak to those words. Twisting him? From his nature? From his purpose? Turned his gaze from who? Her clan or the world? “I do not presume to direct his gaze, what the wolf chooses to look upon is his own business.”

She would have to give the creature credit, it mimicked the woman’s wilting disappointment, the fall of her shoulders, the hunch of her back perfectly. “Then you have failed us da'len. Your parents will be disappointed.” Then again, it clearly wasn’t that great a performer if it thought such guilt would sway her. “I have failed no one but myself. Your judgement and theirs have no bearing on me. I am not responsible for your failings… _keeper_.” The woman laughed openly, it was a startling sentiment that carried a knowing warmth. Keeper Deshanna never laughed like that.

“Who are you? Why do you masquerade as that woman?”

The bright smile that grew on the woman's face was almost horrifying until her features shifted, changing, receding in years. A young unmarked Elven woman stood unfamiliar in her place. “Come Revas, sit with me.”

She hesitated before warily closing the distance, sitting on the worn wooden bench opposite the woman. No longer were they in the forest but a vast library, towering bookshelves replacing trees, candlelit alcoves replacing shadows. She stared in wonder at the shift before turning back to the woman. She seemed… older than she looked, holding herself formally, not relaxed but neither rigid. There was a confidence to her that seemed familiar.

“I see there is no fooling you. I am Melana’dirthara.”

She frowned at the word, her thoughts working to catch up to the meaning it tried to convey. Knowledge and time? Knowledge that comes with time? _Oh- Wisdom_. “It is, nice to meet you?” The woman laughed lightly at her accidental question, and she took it as encouragement to ask more. “Why are you here?” She paused briefly, considering the odd spirit, “And why do you ask about the wolf?”

“Somehow I knew you'd be full of questions. I am here to know you. The wolf is important to me. I would not see him harmed.”

She didn’t even try to hide her shock at the admission. This was a spirit that knew Solas? Her assessment of the woman changed rapidly, and suddenly she felt more like she was seeking the approval of a family member. It was suddenly awkward and more than enough to throw her off-guard. “I do not wish to harm him, what… would you know of me?”

The woman's eyes softened and she spoke more delicately than before, a hush to her words. “No, I don't think you wish to harm him, though whether harm will come to him regardless is yet to be seen. Will you let me see into your mind?”

She flinched. “What do you mean see into my mind? Could that… hurt you? Could that hurt me? I don't know how this works.”

“I do and there is little danger in such a thing. I have done this often in the past, exchanging wisdom with others. It will let me see what you know. Trust me.”

“Can I though? What if you're lying?”

“Lying is not something Wisdom does well, you immediately saw through my disguise did you not?”

She sighed, the spirit had a point there. She tried not to think of what Solas would advise her to do, after all- he wasn’t _here_. “You're not going to make me forget are you?”

“No Revas, that is against my nature.”

She rubbed her face in her hands, “Alright, how do I- Show you? She looked up at the woman who had extended her hand, palm up, invitingly. “Take my hand and do not close your eyes.” She took a deep breath, hoping this wasn't a terrible mistake, placing her hand lightly atop the woman's.

A rush of warmth flowed through her, knowing, wise, ageless sunrises and sets. Words, old and new- languages dead and gone. Strange magical theories and wards. Runes with etchings she’d never seen. She felt so old, and yet so painfully young in the face of the knowledge that sat before her. She felt the spirit draw on her memories, seeing the world through her eyes. She couldn’t help but relax, feeling no malice in the spirit. And as she felt herself grow old once more a song fell unbidden from her lips. The words unfamiliar, Elvhen, and the spirit began to sing with her. All the while it drew on her memories. There was a profound sadness to it, and she couldn’t help the tears that slid down her face.

When the song ended she felt a strong experimental tug at her heart, and then Wisdom released her.

Revas stared off in thought for a time, absently drying her eyes. It felt strange to be so young once more. It felt off somehow, like she’d just lost something marvelous. Wisdom waited patiently for her to come around.

“I... That was... I’m not dead right?”

The woman smiled kindly. “No, you are not dead.”

“Solas sent you didn't he?”

The woman's smile grew deeper. “In a manner of speaking, yes. Though, I came to you willingly. It is not often something catches my friend's attention so thoroughly.”

 _Oh_... “Is he… ok?”

The spirit nodded. “I think he will be. He's in good hands.”

 _Oh_ \- She couldn’t seem to fight the blush that crept into place, wondering if that meant he would come back. The thought filled her with a tentative hope.

“You are indeed a mystery, but there is no malice in you. There are pieces missing, but they are not harmful in their intent.”

She sucked in a gasp at that far too casual mention, _Not harmful?_ “What?! Do you know why?!”

“Yes.”

She dashed her hopes personally, recognizing the dismissal. “And you can't tell me can you?”

“No, sadly that is not for me to say.”

She sighed. “Are you going to tell him?”

“No.”

“Oh…”

“Thank you Revas. It has been a while since I've conversed in such a way with someone so swift in their thoughts, even longer since I've met one such as you.”

“One such as-” She blinked and the spirit was gone, and she sat in the ancient circle of trees once more. “-me…?” Only the soft chorus of leaves dancing in the light breeze answered. She let herself fall back, drifting with them on the tide of her thoughts.

* * *

He paced the Fade in his worry. Each stride took him to a different place, a different time-memories that could not hold his focus. He felt it. He felt her call out to him in agony, a terrified plea, and he had not answered. Wisdom had gone to her in his stead and all he could do was wait, his guilt increasing with each passing moment.

He felt Wisdom reach out to him and he swiftly traversed the shifting pathways back to her domain.

_"Is she-"_

_"Revas will be okay. She is wounded, but not fatally so."_

_"Not-"_ he shook his head at the apparent standard of her wellbeing, _"How bad?"_

_"Gravely enough to justify your concern."_

He continued pacing as Wisdom settled onto a bench once more, watching him with interest. Undoubtedly his aggravated movements were more telling than he wished.

_“What does she intend? What of the spirit that guides her?”_

_“She intends no malice, and it wishes to remain unknown until the time is right.”_

That line of reason too uncomfortably mirrored his own. _“Did it bind your silence?”_

_“No, my silence on the matter is my own out of respect for its wishes. Tread lightly though, it is ancient. Nearly as ancient as you, my friend, and it has by far a greater potential to affect you more than you will ever affect it.”_

_“Then it is a danger to indulge. I must release her.”_

_“I suspect she determines what she considers freedom. Forcing it on her is ill-advised.”_

_“What else can I do? What other course can this end in but failure?”_

_“You can allow yourself the respite you desire, simply wanting this to be wrong, does not mean it is. Fighting against it will only cause you both pain, pain that is not necessary to your plans. You do not need to leave wreckage in your wake. You do not need to burn your heart and hers to do it.”_

He couldn’t help the bite in his words, _“You know what I must do. There is no fanciful happy ending for me. It would be kinder in the long run. I do not deserve such things.”_

Wisdom sighed, fixing him with a deeply probing gaze. _“The future is not so certain Solas. Even you know what may come of death. Fire cleanses old life to make way for new, old wounds heal tougher- more resistant to cuts, things that are shattered beyond all hope may still be pieced back together with time.”_

She paused but continued on, barreling over the start of his rebuttal. _“Giving your heart to another is always a risk my friend. You want change, change for the world, and change for yourself even if you don't believe in the possibility. There is risk in change. You cannot presume to direct the outcome without becoming what you despise. Accept that things may change in ways you do not expect. It is not inherently evil. Be open to the possibility, but do not let the threat, the promise, the hope of change consume you, or your path._

_“Then it is one risk too many, It cannot-”_

_“It is a risk you are already taking. Do not lie to me Lethallin, do not lie to yourself. You fear dying alone, the last of your kin. Is it so terrible to find that you do not have to shoulder your burden alone? To find someone who could accept all that you are? You are only punishing yourself Solas. Punishing yourself will not bring them back. It will not bring Felassan back.” The determined gaze she fixed him with halted his rounds, “That is what truly hurts you, now you realize his words held truth. They are diminished, yes, but they are real, their lives have meaning. Do not dwell on the life lost in your mistakes. Simply remember it, learn from it, and do not make the same mistake again.”_

She shamed him, and he felt unbearably youthful once more. Foolish in his mistakes, inexperienced in his own thoughts- yet he could not deny her reason. _“There is no wisdom to be had in my relationship with her.”_

 _“Is there not? Wisdom is not the only measure of worth Solas.”_ She chuckled and he stared in open incredulity. _“I cannot tell you if it is unwise to pursue her, only that if you do not trust her- what you have will be doomed to fail. She wishes to help you. Your plans have already failed once because you would not listen to the wisdom of others in your care. Would you set off down that path once more? I can only tell you with certainty, that path will lead to a failure you are familiar with. She has perspective you lack, a perspective that could be of value to you. It does not mean you have to give up your duty, and it does not mean you must turn from your path.”_

Wisdom’s arguments were snaking into his resolve to remain apart from his heart, slowly removing the hastily erected stones from his walls. He gazed absently in the space between reason and truth. He rarely lost his temper with the spirit. Perhaps he could not credit Revas alone for his change. His burdens were growing heavier, and the wolf at his back grew closer with each step he took towards his end. Would she? Could he place such things on her? He took a deep breath and released it slowly as Wisdom softly addressed his thoughts.

_“You fear her betrayal above all else, yet she intends nothing of the sort. Place your trust in her my friend, and she will stand with you. Give her a reason to fight for you. She shoulders the burdens of the world as well as she does because you let her lean on you. Ask her. All your cunning, all your intellect will not come to the right answer without faith and the willingness to speak your mind to her. The answer to that question cannot be divined through thought alone lethallin.”_

He sank down on a bench, feeling drained. It had not been the validation he had been seeking. The path she suggested was something he desired, yet his thoughts drifted back to the warning of what guided Revas. Could it truly be that immutable? Was he not a danger to her? He felt he could trust Wisdom's assessment, more so in the face of what his absence had wrought. She was out there, injured again, without his protection. He closed his eyes, breathing a deep sigh- his mind precariously settled. Yet his friend ever sought to steady him.

 _"If keeping her safe is what you desire, then keeping her close is the surest way to succeed."_ He couldn't help the small smile as her tone switched to her ageless warmth. _"It would ease my worries to know someone looked after you."_

* * *

He returned first.

The eluvians remained precisely where he left them and he emerged from the last at a ruin half concealed in the face of a cliff not far from the fortress. He returned to Skyhold under the cover of night, and the scouts on guard gave him no trouble as he crossed the threshold. He had paused by the door to the rotunda, reluctant to rest within. It was in that hesitation that the Spymaster had returned from some duty to ascend to her roost. It was then he learned that Revas was on her way back. He feigned an appropriate shock when she imparted the news of Revas’ injury, asking the appropriate questions to avoid suspicion. When the woman asked where he went, he imparted the vague truth, it was no secret that he dreamed in ruins, and few other than Revas would question him further about such matters. The spy seemed to accept his answer as he bid her a good evening, knowing her shrewd eyes followed his steps as he turned to the tower instead. He desired a place away from the ever prying eyes, and he desired the peace only found in the presence of his lover. There was much he needed to do before she returned and he might as well start now.

He expected her eventual anger, if not at his wordless absence, then his presumption as he took up residence in her quarters. Regardless he laid out his paints once more and set to work finishing his mural. He spent his days in apprehension, worry as her presence drew near. He sought the ambiguity of the Fade often in the bed they had shared to clamp down on conveying his unease, his guilt, as she drew close enough to feel it. He had been awake when he felt her surprise- the moment she realized he had returned. The warmth he felt in her gave him hope.

He hid away in the rotunda as she crossed the bridge. He had wanted to see her return to lay eyes on her injury. Yet he felt he should allow her the space, to allow her the choice of his presence. So he waited, carefully veiling his sentiments.

* * *

She picked at the bandage wrapped around her right arm, thankful Bucket knew where they were going in the absence of her lead. It had been a mercifully uneventful, and more importantly- dry trip back from Crestwood. The reason she still had an arm at all rode to her right, as if he would make himself the right arm she couldn't yet use without pain. Long after he'd nearly exhausted his mana healing her torched arm she woke, in agony but thankfully alive. Blackwall had hurriedly filled her in on the specifics. That Dorian had unexpectedly cast the maelstrom of ice that shattered the demon, and that he and Bull had kept the wayward lesser demons from the still open rift from harming them as the two mages recovered from the battle. After that she'd quickly dragged herself up to seal the weakened rift, passing out again just after it closed.

She'd woken again only after they had reached Caer Bronach, to Varric fussing over her, yelling far too loudly at their companions for breaking the Inquisitor. She was impossibly fond of all of them and the villagers were equally fond of her for finally putting their troubles to rest.

The itch of her healing skin only remotely distracted her thoughts from what lay ahead. That Solas was already waiting at Skyhold, and the nearer they came to the fortress, the clearer his sentiments became. It was like slowly sinking into a hot bath, his intent enveloping her in the warmth of his presence. She let herself drift mildly in the feel of it, keeping her thoughts blank as they approached the glacial valley.

He hadn't emerged from the rotunda to see her return, and she tried not to read into that decision, tried not to let her hurt be known as she accepted help down from her mount. She lingered by the stables, resting a moment in the sun long after her companions had all drifted away. Still he stayed put, and she stifled her anxiety, awkwardly shouldering her pack before heading through the kitchens to the war room. He was carefully guarded, yet there was an undernote of something she couldn't pin down, something that quickened her pulse.

Her advisors gave her a summary of what had happened while she was gone, though thankfully they had attended most of the small matters in her lengthy absence. She hadn’t been looking forward to a mountain of paperwork with an injured hand. Various trainers from different classes had arrived and begun working with those who desired specializations. The Arcanist they requested had also arrived, as well as droves of new recruits.

She had just finished her spoken report to Josephine, the lady ambassador had graciously accepted to write it all down for her. She and Leliana were content to leave other reports for later to let her recover, though Cullen was on edge, lingering after the two ladies had left.

“Inquisitor, we received a plea from the Templars at the Circle of Hasmal, I’m afraid it can’t wait any longer.”

She nodded, “Ok… What do they need?”

“Hasmal’s Circle sustained significant damage during the uprising. The Templars there chose to stay with their charges and the people of Hasmal are no longer content to let them remain. What should we respond with?”

She frowned, “Respond? Like in a letter?”

Her question was met with a stone-faced stare and she went to dig her fingers into her temple, wincing at the pressure on her burn. “Why are we wasting time writing letters?! Go get them.”

“Wait- All of them?”

“YES _all of them_ , is the Inquisition suddenly a Mage-only organization? I said the Inquisition was for everyone. Not every race that happens to be a Mage.”

Cullen looked distinctly taken aback. She was going to need to have a chat with the man, clearly he had the wrong idea about her. For the moment she just sighed, letting him leave to arrange what needed to be done about it.

She dragged herself back out to the great hall, with as much poise as she could manage under the watchful eyes of visiting gossip-mongers. She stared wistfully at her door, wanting nothing more than to retire for the rest of the day, but she had an Arcanist to meet.

\---

Oh she _loved_ Dagna. A simple greeting had become an infectious ranting of ideas, much to Harritt’s increasing dismay. They theorized for hours on everything from the anchor to her daggers. The woman was so easy to talk to, and surprisingly familiar with her weapons. Dagna hastily explained that she had been at the circle, Kinloch Hold, when the Hero of Ferelden had passed back through. She’d sold one of her old swords to the merchant there, and the circle immediately bought it up for study, eager to know more about the technique she employed.

So it was that she ran her own ideas past the giddy Arcanist, a design for new daggers like her own, but longer, and heavier. Her open use of magic would allow even the weighted brands she had in mind to be light in hand, while still cutting deeper at her foes. They scavenged through her cache of salvaged components. Ironbark for the handles, wrapped in a grip of rune-etched darkened samite, a core of fade touched obsidian that had a strangely dense weight to it- for channeling her magic and defensive properties. She chose Silverite for the blades themselves and pommel stones of polished bloodstone to direct her magic seamlessly through the blades without burning the Ironbark. Dagna was overjoyed and she left her daggers in the woman's care, setting a date to work the forge together in the morning.

She left feeling lighter than she had in the past month. Finally dragging herself and her pack up the stairs to her room, wondering at the apprehension, the held breath of his intent she could feel.

And then she saw why. Not only had the offensively exposed windows been adorned in the foliage she envisioned, but the walls too now wore a raiment of their own. A vast mural stretched across the bare spaces of stone. An old forest, and as she took in the magnificent change she realized it was _his_ clearing, the clearing she dreamed of. Set on the wall behind her bed a great white wolf sat, a star field of many blue eyes staring wistfully to his darkened mate. Yellow eyes returned his gaze hopefully. Her unhindered surprise and subsequent adoration broke their stalemate.

She felt him draw near and it was then that she noted his things were settled on her couch. His staff, his armor, even his clothes lay there neatly. Had he been sleeping here? According to the way her blankets had been folded it seemed he had been. She was always content to leave them in a mess. She dropped her things unceremoniously next to his. Slowly she began peeling herself out of her armor, mindful of her bandages as she felt him hesitate outside her door. What was he waiting for? For her to send him some sort of mental warning? Sentiments to drive him away? She chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she drew a bath waiting for what he would decide to do. She would not make this decision for him. Her door opened, shutting softly. She unconsciously held her breath as soft footfalls climbed the stairs. She couldn't tell if the apprehension she felt was his or her own. Perhaps both. When she shut off the water and turned around he was standing at the top. Not daring to impose further. Their bond betrayed her curiosity, and his guilt- his eyes left hers, catching painfully on her bandaged arm.

“I see you've been busy.”

He nodded slowly, meeting her gaze once more. “I have.”

“Is... Are...” She sighed, a failed attempt at running a hand through her knotted hair. She had spent so much effort not thinking about his leave that she hadn't planned on what to say upon his return. Until seeing the deliberate state of her room, she had figured he would stay entrenched in the rotunda to the end of his days- well, if he ever had an end to his days, if she never worked up the nerve to face him.

“Can I take a bath? I feel awful.”

He offered a small smile. “Of course, would you rather I-”

“No, please stay. I can talk and wash at the same time,” She considered her arm, amending- “At least I think I can. If that does not bother you.”

“Of course not.”

She returned to the small room, discarding the rest of her clothing before climbing into the steaming bath. Careful to keep her bandages dry. A low groan left her as she sank in further beneath the surface. She counted several heartbeats as she felt the cold induced stiffness melt away. The deafening roar of it in her ears was calming as she lay submerged, attempting to clear her mind. When she surfaced once more Solas had joined her in the small room, settling down on the stool as he gathered up her bathing supplies, rolling up his sleeves. She watched him curiously as she scrubbed.

He waited wordlessly, an almost apologetic expression on his face to match the intent he conveyed. She guessed his meaning, reluctantly turning around, unable to contain the surprise that he wished to perform such a gesture. His touch was gentle as he worked the decidedly strange cream into her hair. It had been a gift from Josephine in an attempt to tame her wild locks and she still wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't magic. She seldom used it, but it felt nice as he wound his fingers through her hair. His efforts were laden with another apology. It was beginning to make her feel bad. “Solas, you don't need to-”

“I would like to.”

She let him continue. Wondering exactly what had happened while they were apart, wondering precisely what Wisdom had said to him. He bade her to tilt her head back pouring clean water to wash the concoction from her hair. Refilling the wooden bucket and rinsing again before his deft fingers twisted her hair up into a loose bun.

And it seemed he wasn't content to stop there. His hand reached around from behind her, waiting palm up. She reluctantly relinquished her scrubbing cloth, a relaxed sigh escaping her as he worked over her back. It was then he finally spoke.

“You change everything. You change me. It... I was not prepared to face that.”

 _Oh_ , so that’s what prompted his flight? “That was not my intent Solas.”

“I know Revas.”

A long sigh left her. “If I've learned anything, it's that you can't prepare for every outcome. No matter how hard you try.”

He seemed surprised by the admission, pausing before he resumed his efforts, encouraging her to turn around as he continued. “It is wise to recognize that, though it does not mean we should abandon the effort to try.”

She gazed at him as he focused on washing her, far from clinical in his efforts- if the slight blush adorning his cheekbones was any indication- but almost a reverent accuracy, as if any wrong move would hurt her. He refused to meet her eyes in return. “I don't know about wisdom, but that has held true in my experience. Don't think I've forgotten about my own mistakes, I chose to go after the Mages, yet had I gone after the Templars then it's likely we would have faced a Mage army... Had I done nothing we never would have made it out of that valley alive. I would be dead, the world in chaos. There was no right answer there. Maybe there was another way, maybe I could have divided our efforts... But they both requested my presence. I am only one person Solas. And I can't do this on my own.”

Apprehension was written in his every line as he withdrew. He had been oddly formal with her since he’d come up, and it felt like he'd raised some of his walls again. It was entirely at odds with his things strewn about her room, his efforts. She worried briefly that it was all a preface to setting her loose. She spoke quietly, expecting the worst, “What can I do to help you Solas? What can I do to put your mind at ease?” He looked her over in silence- lingering over her injury, finally meeting her gaze as he spoke. “How is it you are not angry with me?”

“Why get angry for something I don't understand? You needed to leave, I don't really know why. It must have been important to you. If it was that important to you why should I put myself before that? Why should I be that selfish? A warning would have been nice, but no, I was not angry. Just jealous that you are able to do so, when that's something they would never- No, something _I_ couldn't allow. I know what happens if I go absent. That knowledge is a luxury most people never get until they try.”

His gaze softened as something in him shifted. His arms wound around her, pulling her to lean against the edge of the tub close to him. The unyielding barrier of the metal between them seemed fitting as she laid her head on his shoulder. Her sigh was a small sound of contentment, relaxing into that hold of his she’d sorely missed.

“That statement carries more truth than you know.”

He spoke softly against her temple, the light had returned to his voice, “Will you permit me to stay?”

She allowed a long pause, feeling his heartbeat up against hers once more. “Will you stay?”

“If you allow it.”  
“Then stay.”

She finished her bath, rinsing away the soap as he returned to her room, stoking the fire, settling in. When she finally emerged, clad in her sleeping tunic, he shifted on his feet seemingly unsure what to do with himself. She closed the distance and took up his hand. He didn't seem to want to meet her gaze this close so she reached up, gently angling his face to meet hers. “I'm not going to bite you, unless that's what you want.” It brought a small smile to his face, though he was clearly still fretting about something.

She led him to sit with her by the fire. “Do you want something to drink? I'll admit most of it is either tea or alcohol.” A light chuckle. “I am fine.”  
“I hope you don't mind if I?”  
“No, go ahead.”

She poured her own glass, sitting next to him, staring long at the fire. “You don't have to be here if you don't want to Solas.”

“What? No, that's not what I-”

She patted his leg. A small exasperated breath left him. “This is... new to me.” She smiled, the admission filling her with an unexpected warmth, “That must be saying something.” A small breathy chuckle, “Yes.”

“Tell me about something happy.”

He turned to her, eyebrow raised. “You do not wish to ask where I went? Why it was so important as to leave without a word?”

She sighed. “I can if you want. Though I'm not sure you really wish to tell me yet.” A warm smile settled into place and he drew her into his arms, his walls evaporated- no barriers between them. The tension drained from him. She must have guessed right. “How did you become so observant?”

She chuckled as she took his change for permission, climbing into the hollow of his crossed legs, leaning back against his chest. Reveling at the shift her admission had wrought, whatever was on his mind was clearly a topic he wasn’t ready to broach with her. It made her curious, but it didn’t seem like he was ending things between them, so she let it go. “People keep doing things that make me ask questions is all.”

He encircled her in his arms as he leaned in to whisper stories of happy memories to her. Lips brushing soft words against her temple, painting in small strokes little bright things as he took up her bandaged hand, gentle waves of healing magic ebbed away at her lingering pain. Her glass empty and forgotten as tales of love, victory, freedom wove around them. They were small things, but perhaps the most important. A small Elvhen child excited to come into their magic, a spirit of Wisdom blooming in the fade, the dance of lovers on a warm summer night, finding someone who will accept you in your entirety- flaws and all. There was a smile in his voice throughout that last one.

“I am glad you've come back Solas.”

“As am I Revas.”

* * *

An old wise voice cried out in agony. Impressions of being trapped, twisted, a dark serrated pain tinged with a malicious pride. A hand suddenly grasped hers, fingers threading through. A hot dry plain, golden grasses rustling in the sun, corpse bones creaking with shuffling steps. She didn’t have to look to know Solas was fixed stiffly next to her. The acrid tang of smoke stained her senses. She felt a deep panic rise in him as he gripped her tighter. A whirl of red arching outward to mist a stagnant breeze. Blood, battle, fire and fear. Cries old and new rose up to a deafening crescendo.

She woke with a start encased in the trembling arms of her lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a little head-canon (that's probably far more popular than I realize) that it’s not just waking that suffers the effects of the Veil, but that dreaming is also succumbing from being held so separately. It has little basis in lore, I think. It’s mostly my fascination with how the Fade was portrayed in Origins. But it’s an interesting issue that makes Solas’ efforts all the more pressing. It probably won’t have a lot of impact on this fic, though it might come up in the Fade chapter at Adamant. It will likely be a thread I pick up in the sequel to this. 
> 
> I'll admit the "Sure lets just open the floodgates" part of Crestwood REALLY bothered me. But then again I know an unusual amount of things about disasters... so. Yeah. That's why that was a thing. 
> 
> I hope this wasn't too weird. Really almost named this chapter "In which two elves dream about weird shit." That sounds like a Varric title. Kinda hard not to do dream stuff with mister fade lord over there. Harsh realities incoming, but hopefully not the angsty elf kind. 
> 
> Briefly considered what would happen if she truly lost her arm. Can you imagine Trespasser? Gods that would hurt.
> 
> Hopefully obvious where this is going next.


	21. In Which Freedom Led Pride To Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Split in half Nov 12 
> 
> Continued in next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dyn Surana is my worldstate’s HoF
> 
> So You're gonna want this in the first 1kish words- I won't be cruel and make you scroll to the bottom.  
> [VAR VHEN?! IR BANAL FALON MALIN SA’NAN] = Our people?! I am no friend, your/my blood [is my] one revenge (last revenge/vengeance) alternatively- your blood is my price.

Pain pulled perilously, it was too much all at once. This day was different, disastrous. He sought, searched, seeking simple solutions, threads he grasped treading tentative on turmoil. The tiniest change to help the hurts heal. They would have to leave soon. He could help.

Deep dark in dreaming dwelled, distorted, dying, nightmare- but it was real. No time, he must leave now, but he could not leave alone. Trapped in terror, she dreamed of it too. She would help him. Beyond it- too loud, too old, that pain hurt to hear. He passed over it piteous, powerless, professing apologies. He couldn't fix that one yet.

Honey in her tea, soften the severe spy safeguarding the sad letter, easing elusive efforts makes her- _more_. Admires the mage, admires the woman. So much like Dyn, they carried the same fire. Came from nothing, wanted nothing, protect her from the world, even if she never sees why. Steeling, steadfast, subdued. _She doesn’t think you’re a monster, she would listen if you asked._ A secret smile, inward inviting- no, hurry, more hurt hung heavy, hindering.

~~-~~

Solas wordlessly busied himself with the teapot over her fire as she paced, outwardly manifesting the emotions he kept from surfacing. He was just as unsettled as she was and she struggled to understand the implications of what they had just seen just as she struggled to withstand the turmoil of his muted panic. For she was now certain they both had seen it, and they needed to hurry. He didn't seem inclined to talk and she wasn't willing to force it. Not even sure she could pay attention long enough, his darkening intent tinged with the edge of fear was completely breaking her focus.

His hands shook slightly as he offered her the cup, swiftly draining his own with a shake of his head and a look of disgust. She sipped hers more sedately, wishing the heat of the drink could rid her of the deep chill she felt. “We'll leave as soon as possible. Do you know where-?”

“Yes, the Dirthavaren. I will know more specifically once we are close.” He paused, searching her gaze as it flitted anxiously from one thing to the next. "And I suspect you will as well."

She spared him a fleeting pained look before pacing to her desk, shuffling papers to find her map, puzzling out how long the trip might take them. It didn’t bode well. The reports coming out of there lately suggested the civil war that raged on those plains had been interrupted by something that besieged both sides. Maybe that’s why the corpses? “I'll have to warn the advisors and round up a few people to come with us- is that ok?”

He nodded, grimacing, well into his second cup of tea.

She grabbed the map, hastily dressing in her armor, she paused- hot and dry that meant she could wear her pelt. She pulled it out of her pack, wrapping it about herself before doing a quick check- something was missing. She checked her pockets, her pack-

“Your daggers- vhenan.”

She palmed her face, wincing at the impact of her still tender hand. “Shit. I was supposed to work the forge with Dagna. No, no Ok, it’s fine- I’ll hurry.” She dashed out the room, map in hand.

She burst into Josephine’s office on her way to the war room, relieved to see the ambassador was already well into her work. “Oh Josephine, great- Can you tell the others I have to cancel the war meeting later, and everything for the next, oh I don’t know two weeks? And can I have that stack of reports from yesterday? I'm going to have to answer them on the road.”

“Oh Inquisitor! I- Of course, has something happened?”

“Solas- his friend is in danger in the Dirthavaren. Uh shoot- um…" She glanced at the beleaguered map in her fist, "Oh right- _Exalted Plains_. Is there anything that I need to address immediately? And do we have any information on that region?”

“No, there is nothing immediate, and the information we have out of there is limited. Though, if you are heading that way perhaps you could head to the Emerald Graves after? It is not too far out of the way and a man named Fairbanks has requested assistance.” She nodded already edging towards the door, “We have forward camps in the area right?”

“Yes, their current positions are all marked… on the war… table...” She dashed into the hall, yelling over her shoulder, “Sorry, Josie I swear I’m still listening!” Heaving open the heavy wooden door, throwing all her weight into it she stumbled inward, hastily updating her own map, careful not to jostle any markers. She ran back through the hall, scooping up the stack of reports “I'll send these back as soon as possible, thank you Josie-”

“Oh and Leliana said she wished to see you!”

“Oh-Okay! I'll head there next!”

She crept up the stairs, concentrating on Solas. He’d left her room and she thought he might be in the kitchens, sighing at the thought. Good- provisions had completely slipped her mind. Shaking her head, attempting to clear the fog, she wished she could bear his panic with such poise. His agitation was rising by the moment and she quickly ran over what she still needed to do- it was a list that was far too long. She reached the crest of the stairs to see that Leliana already lay in wait.

“Josephine said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, there is a letter you need to see. We received it from a Dalish clan requesting aid, from you, specifically. It is very strangely worded and I wonder what you will make of it.” She took the offered letter warily, as though the paper itself would hurt her as surely as the words were like to. She was aware that Leliana personally kept tabs on any threats she received in correspondence, the woman had waved her interest off, _‘It is better you do not see them- just hurtful words. If anything important comes up I will let you know.’_ Anything the Dalish were inclined to send her couldn’t be good. Her gaze fell immediately to the signature, “Oh you have got to be joking…” Her disbelief, her scowl only grew with each sentence.

> _Inquisitor Revas, perhaps our plight will move you to action._
> 
> _We have heard rumors of the elf that sealed the breach and we have heard you are Dalish, though we have not heard word of your clan. It places us in the precarious position of trusting you on rumor alone._
> 
> _Clan Lavellan has been settled in a small unclaimed valley on the border of Wycome for the past few months and the shemlen here had been content to leave us alone. Now however, though the rifts are few, they spread fear and chaos where those who seek to take advantage of it thrive. We are harried by bandits. The raiders are well armed and heavily armored, and they come in numbers we cannot hope to match. You must have enough on your shoulders if the rumors that reach us are true- fighting ancient Tevinter magisters while representing our people. Yet, our misfortunes are many, and we hope you are in a position to help us, for our people cannot endure losing what little we have gained._
> 
> _Dareth shiral,  
>  Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan_

“What?”

She scanned the letter again, pacing.

“Seriously? That can’t be-”

She stared blankly, her mind racing to parse the note for hidden meanings. Her anger quickly reached the end of its shortened fuse.

 **“VAR VHEN?! IR BANAL FALON MALIN SA’NAN!”** The ravens all took flight at once, scattering feathers about the rotunda before settling down once more, cawing their displeasure. She crumpled the letter reflexively, and barely stopped short of setting the note on fire, attempting to smooth it back out. “Sorry- I” Leliana laughed, “I already made a copy.” She burned it in a flash, sighing in relief. “ _Oh_ that felt good. This is the absolute _last_ thing I need right now.”

She looked to the spymaster, searching for anything telling and found only a careful façade of _nothing_. She took a chance and dropped her voice to a whisper, “Surely by now you know?” The spymaster was thankfully just as hushed, “That they are the clan that exiled you? Yes, I did know. I haven’t brought this to anyone else yet, I thought that you might like to know first.” Her brows furrowed as she studied the woman’s calm expression, “This doesn’t add up. Do they not know who I am?” Leliana considered her thoughtfully, sipping her tea. “It is possible, though I agree the circumstances are unusual.” She sighed, weighing her options. “Could you spare anyone? Could your people look into this? I am wary to involve the Inquisition directly before we know what’s going on. It could be a trap, or worse.” Leliana nodded, “I’ll see what I can do Revas.”

The use of her name stalled her thoughts as she stared at the woman in surprise. “I… forgot to thank you, for sending out the warning to the other villages. So- _thank you_ , you didn’t have to do that. And thank you for showing me this. I… I really mean it.” She turned to go, suddenly more than a little awkward in the woman’s presence, yet Leliana called her back.

"You are not going to tell me to keep it from them?"

Turning back, she shook her head, “I do believe Josephine would have my head if I asked you to keep anything from her.” Leliana laughed softly, and she managed a small smile before remembering the stack of papers tucked under her arm. “Are there any more reports I need to look into?” She gestured with the stack from Josephine. “I might as well try to be productive on the road.”

Leliana’s smile carried a warmth that was as surprising as its honesty and there was a wistfulness there that she couldn’t fathom the source of- Nor did she have the time to try. “There are a few, you may take them if you like.”

~~-~~

“Hey Kid- what are you up to this early?”

“I'm helping.”

He laughs light, lingering, he _remembers_. “Don't let me keep you.” Confusion, carried conveyed, another laugh, “It’s just an expression Kid.”

A different dwarf, daggers, determination. Deftly he crept upon the under-forge. Spotted, speaking swiftly, she could see him, but she didn't hurt, how? Questions- few answers, told her about their pain, his plan. She _helped_ him. A note- soothing words. Borrowed blades blended waking and dreaming, heavy hopeful… made to hurt, made to help. He hurried.

~~-~~

“ **NO-** not today! I will not be traveling with you and that brute. No. Go bother someone else!”

The sting of tears threatening to blur her vision was nothing compared to the sting of his tone. Her voice was embarrassingly broken. “Dorian?”

A stricken look crossed his face before he turned away, a hand at his temple, a wave of dismissal over his shoulder.

She took a few steps backward, hoping she had it wrong somehow. As the tense moment dragged on it was clear- _she didn’t_. She turned and fled, down through the rotunda and out to the battlements, dashing quickly through Cullen's office. Not stopping at the hurled box she narrowly missed- shattering against the door frame, or his surprised exclamation. Not stopping at all until she was hidden away in a corner at the top floor of the tavern.

~~-~~

A dark drink, not the one he had last night, not the one that pained him come morning. Thoughts twisted up inside, a joke a laugh. Jokes shouldn't hurt that much. She was his friend how couldn't she see? Spiced, special, sweetened a cup full of home. Snapped sharp singed she ran. Left the drink when he wasn't looking, warmth, wary, wondering- who? _It doesn't matter, it’s for you. She cares, she just can't see what hurts you, she wants to understand._ A small tut, “Coffee, here? Who'd have thought?” Sipping settled securely, a smile, he thought of home, the home that didn't hurt.

He helped.

~~-~~

A quiet sob left her, despite her attempts to stifle it. Not now- she couldn't fall apart _now_. It was too much, Wisdom trapped, the letter from her clan, and now Dorian... How was she supposed to fix all of _this_?

“I can help.”

She looked up, unburying her face to see Cole crouched in front of her, his droopy hat hiding his eyes. He had an odd pair of massive daggers attached to his hip, and clearly he guessed her mind, explaining in his own roundabout way. “Dagna wanted to help, you needed to hurry. I got them for you, words wistful wending in wonder -there's a note.”

She accepted the small soot stained note, and a small smile surfaced at the hurried scrawling words.

> _“Sorry! I dismantled your daggers to figure out how they worked…That’s probably not okay, should have asked- BUT I LEARNED SOOO MUCH!! Similar to what I’m used to but different, Older? Complicated. I’ll explain later. BUT- luckily I already finished these prototypes!! I stayed up all night!! Way too interesting to sleep! They should be ready for your wards, but be careful they’re sharp- I mean of course they’re sharp but, sharp mentally? I can’t explain it. Too much magic? Maybe interference with the Obsidian- they glow. I mean, they glow like YOU. I hope that’s normal, I mean- well- you know what I mean. Come back soon and let me know how they work out!!” -Arcanist Dagna_
> 
> _PS- I used all the Ironbark- Sorry, they turned out bigger than I expected, will request more if I can, be on the lookout just in case!_

She chuckled weakly, “Oh Cole, thank you. This really helps.” He nodded, handing over what could be best described as what would happen if her daggers and a cleaver mated with a mages staff, thankful they also came with a modified holster. How in the void the woman knew how to work ironbark, let alone inlay it into the blade... She would have to pick the Arcanist's brain when they returned. Dagna had really outdone herself. If this is what she called a prototype- well, the finished product would be truly something to behold. She looked back to the spirit boy, hoping.

“Cole, would you like to come with me to help Solas?”

“Old pain, shadows forgotten from dreams too real. This side is slow and heavy, but here is what can change. I would like that, Yes.”

She stilled at his cryptic admission, her full attention on the boy who refused to meet her gaze. Did that mean what she thought?

“Golden yet gone, sudden where it was once slow. His eyes showed you what was, what is, still and stifling, willingly. He hurt then, but it was less. You knew but then you didn’t.” He paused as she held her breath, barely registering the small battle he seemed to be engaged in. “I am sorry. It doesn’t want me to tell you more.”

Staring in disbelief, she was certain this was going to be a far more uncomfortable trip than she had already imagined. It felt like there was an answer in those words- but already they slipped through her fingers. She was going to have to start writing this down. “Can you be ready within the hour? We will likely be gone for several weeks.”

He tilted his head, his eyes still veiled. He seemed to be listening to something far off, and she waited, watching. “I can, yes.”

She left Cole to his, _helping_. Hefting the daggers in hand, slashing experimentally before winding the holster straps around her thighs, securing each buckle to her belt. They were quite a bit bigger than she was used to and much heavier, and she felt vaguely ridiculous as she descended the stairs. According to the thunderstruck look on Bull’s face that preceded his laugh- he must have agreed.

"So, I can guarantee it won't be raining, you up to it?”

"How?" His skepticism was plain to see, but she didn’t have time to explain.

"Trust me I just know. It'll be hot and dry. Though I'd put money on more walking corpses. We have to leave like, an hour ago."

He finally relented with a laugh, "Sure Boss. If there's a fight you know I'm always up for it."

~~-~~

Quick, quiet. Stack of papers she forgot, it was ok _he remembered_. Losing his grasp, lethargic, the lyrium- it calls and he cries- _he can't._ Corrupting command. Calm, careful, Cassandra could help him. She stopped striking, settling the sword swiftly, seeking the sudden thought. _He needs help. Could have hurt her, hit her, he doesn't know it has nothing to do with him._ She hadn’t seen the Commander at breakfast, perhaps she should check on him.

He listened, the pain was less. The other hurts that lingered were small, they would be ok.

* * *

Focus was maddeningly beyond her reach. Try as she might to clear her mind and concentrate on the stack of reports- she found herself thinking about everything but. Worried about Solas as he fidgeted uncharacteristically, unconsciously spurring his hart on faster. Running down the list of supplies she'd packed only to shift half way through to agonize over how she left things with Dorian. Then the letter from her clan surfaced to fuel her annoyance, and it was a sentiment that wouldn't settle as she tried and failed to figure out what it meant, only to finally shuffle through reports once more. They were tedious petty things, and after unsuccessfully trying to parse note after note of vague promises of alliance in exchange for some unsavory favor her gaze would drift to the beautiful if unnervingly precarious view that stretched out before them. Only to start the cycle of fretting all over again as they descended the switchback down the western flank of the Frostback mountains. This was the most insistent she had ever felt after one of her strange dreams and Solas' unhindered anxiety only made it worse. Whatever it was that compelled her was clearly very unnerved. It felt like there was far more at stake here than just one trapped spirit, even one as rare as Wisdom. It was in that depth of unease that her thoughts couldn't help but be drawn to Solas, his apprehension, his pain pulling at her like an open wound. Last night had been dominated by his sweet and gentle care, a side so at odds with his usual confidence. It made her feel unexpectedly fragile, as if he feared he would break her. The depth of adoration she had felt in their bond had kept her from addressing the shift. He had returned changed, and though it wasn't unpleasant she couldn't help but continue to wonder what had transpired. It was as though she was pulling at the chain of some anchor deep below a darkened lake, each link that she unveiled inevitably lead to another. As she drew closer with each tug, she wondered what shape he would be if she ever reached the end. Which face was it that he presented held his true self? Were they both? Was the sagacious man the cloak to conceal the cunning beast? Or was the beast what protected the man? Either way, he was hurt, and if there was anything she was sure of- a wolf wounded was a dangerous thing.

The only comfort she had in the imposing face of the insurmountable unknowns was that she had the distinct feeling that there was still time.

After several rounds of fretting and several turns more down the path Cole pulled up next to her on the pale mare that had been Solas' as the path grew wider. Cole had taken immediately with the horse, chatting freely _at_ it. She on the other hand was much fonder of her hart, a decidedly odd creature caught between its imposingly majestic stature and the unfortunate indignity of its cry. Bucket was a strangely intuitive creature, adopting a carefully even gait as she balanced cross-legged on its back in her attempt to address the reports. The broad flat expanse of her daggers were at least useful as a surface to write on. It made her wonder who the creature's last rider had been, and if they wrote on the road often.

"Yes. Steady, wandering, watchful. Ink slashed parchment but an arrow slashed him. She was sad. Eyes open to the sky, cold. He wouldn't get up."

She was never going to get used to that, taking a deep breath, steadying herself to avoid adding that to the pit of anxiety that was quickly swallowing her up.

"She likes you though- _Oh!"_ She turned to see Cole reach into the bag hanging off his saddle. A half startled laugh shook her as he unhelpfully divested another full stack of reports in her arms. “You forgot these, Cullen doesn’t need them- they keep him up at night.” Further down the path she felt Solas tense at her mirth, and a long sigh left her as Cole fell back to where Bull was keeping a careful distance. Conveying the apology in her heart, she gave Bucket it’s lead, trusting it to keep pace with the others and not walk them both off the side of the mountain. Keeping her quill steady, she tried again to bury her thoughts in the reports.

It was nearly midday when they finally reached the end of the weathered stone descent, and nearly an hour after that when they came upon the first meadow in the high hills. The rocky terrain finally giving way to more robust life. She could feel that Solas begrudged the stop as they set their mounts to graze, but he relented, outwardly showing a calm she knew he didn't embody as she sat beneath the shade of a tall pine. Cole was off bothering Bull, but it didn't look as though the Qunari was too uncomfortable so she let it go- turning her attention to her unwarded daggers.

Easing them out of their confines she took in their craftsmanship. They were curious, running her hand down the flat edge, they were... _Perfect_. The ironbark that veined the metal was completely smooth, not a single raised edge. Yet there was something... _Sharp_.

"They cut on both sides."

She looked up to see Cole had returned to her side, his head cocked, staring at the sleeping blades as though they were speaking to him. She tentatively voiced her thoughts before he could address them anyways. "They aren't like yours, they only have one edge, Cole, they can't..." Her brows knit as she reconsidered. "Wait..." The boy nodded encouragingly. "Dagna said too much magic, that they glowed..." She summoned forth a small veil flame as she ran her hand over the blade again, wavering traces of runes sprang to life at her touch. The shock of it was enough to clear her mind entirely. "How?"

"The stone remembers the dreams. It wants to be useful, it wants to be more."

She fell silent as she stared, vaguely aware Solas had returned from his walk. His presence as he settled down next to her was calmer, distracted- perhaps she could show him… but she would need to be able to concentrate.

Her voice was more tentative than she wished, "Solas?"

He turned his attention from the blades to her, knowing worn heavily on his brow. "I am sorry vhenan, I will try to focus."

Inhaling deeply, centering herself as she patted his leg, she drew on her magic. Focusing on the wards she would need, she was aware he watched with rapt curiosity. Her attention shifted firmly to the blade set on the ground before her, and she cast the first ward. The glowing lines slowly etched across the metal. Her fingers trailing strokes of green fire, the base ward settled into the blade quite well, and she studied it for a moment, making sure it took. Solas hummed approvingly, leaning in to whisper a slight change. It was a surprising twist, and she considered it thoughtfully before fetching up the other dagger, placing it opposite it’s twin. Focusing once more, she warped the ward past its usual confines of a single blade- and extended it to the other. “Huh.” It glowed with a strength that far surpassed it’s original, drawing on the cores of both. She grinned up at him as it took, relieved at the small smile he wore in return- encouraging her to continue.

Layering the remaining wards over the new base went surprisingly well, and the glow faded as the complex ward set to permanence within the mated blades. She picked them up and lit one with fire experimentally, pleased as its mate mirrored the spell without a thought. It would greatly conserve her mana. She turned to Solas, an eyebrow raised in question. The meaningful look he wore was just as evocative as the provocative kiss he stole from her. She shook her head as he stood and sauntered off to where Bull was readying their mounts. Cole cocked his head, “Mated, matched, fire in her hands, fire in her form where it presses firmly against mine, fitting for one so fierce- He likes it when you scream his name.”

 _Fire indeed_ , the blush that rose with the spirit's unwitting declaration burned all the way up her ears. She stuttered incoherently before she shot to her feet, striding with a purpose off towards her hart, extinguishing her blades with far more ease than her attempt to stifle the horrified blush. Resolutely ignoring everyone’s attempt to figure out what was wrong with her as they set off once more. She endeavored to keep her thoughts blank, the possibility for the spirit to divulge that sort of information hadn't crossed her mind before. Yet, Cole didn't let it go.

"Why would he want you to scream his name? Does he like it when everyone screams his name?"

She pulled her pelt down over her eyes as Solas looked sharply at Cole and then her. Bull spooked their mounts with his sudden roar of a laugh, and soon the two harts were trumpeting with an ear splitting din. It took several minutes for everyone to calm down, and at least the effort had Compassion distracted from his question.

Though Bull didn't forget it. "Oh I can't wait to tell Varric about _this_. You're alright, kid."

~~-~~

They made great time, already well into the foothills on the western flank of the Frostbacks, traveling mostly in silence save for Cole's unnervingly accurate, if thankfully more obscure observations. According to Bull’s set jawed silence, he’d revised his previous assessment of Cole. They stopped early, just before sunset to give the mounts rest for the evening, though she and Solas both wished to press on- Cole helpfully informed them the mounts were tired. It put the matter to rest. Though Solas found little, unable to stay still, pacing beyond the perimeter of the camp. It was an uneasiness she shared.

"Cole, would you spar with me? I don't want the first time I use these to be in a fight for my life."

“You want me to fight you?”

“A play fight, no killing no blood, just to test skill.”

He seemed to understand better when she put it that way. “Yes, I can do that.”

They moved to the small clearing beyond their tents. The warm glow of the setting sun glinted off their daggers like a thing alive. Dagna had certainly succeeded in making them heavier, and it took more focus to keep her normal speed- To keep her muscles from fatigue. Faced with the prospect of what likely awaited her in dreams she eased up in her magic use, letting the pleasant burn exhaust her. Cole was definitely going easy on her. Reading her movements and no doubt her thoughts gave him a distinct advantage. With a skill no mortal could match, and a speed that far outstripped hers- she was glad he came, _despite_ his previous outburst. Exhaustion settled in her as night finally fell, her movements had slowed drastically- unable to keep up with the tireless boy. She thanked him, hands braced on her knees to catch her breath as Cole wandered as light as ever back to camp.

Sinking to the ground, laying back to stare at the stars, she tried to clear her thoughts once more. Her gaze drifting from the distant fixed lights to the small free blinking ones that drifted upward from the tall grass. In her watch over the small dance of fireflies she realized Solas had been watching quietly from the shadowed tree-line and at her conveyed inquiry he crept to her side.

“Perhaps- if you are not too tired. I could be your next match?”

She smiled up at him upside-down, taking his offered hand, accepting his help to stand. “What do you have in mind?” Even in the growing dark she could see his gaze shift to her bandaged arm. “I would like to teach you something.” He stepped in close, “A technique that would ideally prevent you from sustaining such injuries.” She caught his unvoiced meaning- _should he ever not be there to protect her._ She wondered if that meant he was likely to leave her behind again. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but she agreed.

He stood behind her, arms wrapped loosely around her. A few of the Magelights he cast flitted about the clearing like oversized fireflies. She tried not to let their beauty distract her from his instruction. “Feel for the Veil. It may take time to realize it is there, how heavily it hangs over your magic. Once you can feel it I want you to reach for it. Grab it and wrap it about your form. Like this-”

He held her tight as he warped an unexplainable shield around them both and in the space between she felt weightless. Light and blindingly bright as her mana surged suddenly unhindered. _“Oh!”_ The Fade receded as she settled heavily on her feet once more, her magic felt strangely suppressed. He released her, “Try to accomplish that first. I will teach you what comes next, after.”

She stood still, reeling slightly from his demonstration. Taking a deep breath, she felt for the heavy blanket now that she knew it was there. The absence of it felt... Familiar somehow. She reached out in truth feeling for the seam she could grasp. Her left hand caught on something invisible and she pulled- succeeding in phasing her arm out in that same shimmering light. It quickly dimmed as she lost her focus. The anchor protested in a small spark of green as her arm became physical once more.

A soft sound of approval met her ears, “For a first try that is remarkable, vhenan.” He circled around her, “With practice you should be able to accomplish it with a thought. For now, try using both hands.”

She steadied herself again closing her eyes, reaching out- grasping and pulling- hoping the speed of her movement would increase her success. She turned involuntarily to maximize the effort, and everything blinked out in a rush of light, she found herself standing bewildered in the middle of camp next to a severely startled Bull. "Oh! I- _sorry_... Was that supposed to happen?" She turned to see Solas stride hurriedly into the firelight, relief shifting to a smirk on his face. "Well done, Revas. Though perhaps I should have explained why it was important to stay still. Rematerializing in a space already occupied can be dangerous."

Bull grumbled, "Great now two of them..."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Do not be, that was excellent progress."

She fought a yawn, and he chuckled lightly, "Perhaps we should call it a night?" She nodded weakly, her gaze shifting between Solas and Bull, "What's the watch order tonight?"

"Cole has volunteered to watch. He does not require rest in the same way we do." Bull grunted, "Yeah unnatural- I got first watch." He trailed off grumbling something incoherent. She fixed him with a curious stare but he didn't elaborate. "Well... don't stay up all night Bull, if it bothers you, wake me and I'll sit next watch." He nodded.

Stumbling after Solas, she followed him into their tent. He was calmer than before, and it helped her settle in next to him more comfortably. She wanted to ask if he was ok, but it was obvious he wasn't. So instead of their usual arrangement she curled up around him, making herself the calm to keep him steady. He relented, letting himself be held in such a way once more. She hummed a small tune, the origin she couldn't guess. It evolved as words slowly came to mind on the edge of hearing. She sang them softly, feeling the tension drain from her lover. Her smile bloomed against his neck. Mentally thanking Cole for wherever he grabbed that tune.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d been asleep when the nightmares started. It was unsettling, yet Solas remained at her side until it ended, waking to his tight embrace. She clung to him and they did not return to dreams despite their exhaustion. His voice a bare whisper as they talked to keep their minds from the pain of the dream. Just before they gave up their repose to ready themselves for the day he finally ventured a question she’d been expecting.

“How do you endure it?”

She sighed, “Not easily. It's different each time. Sometimes it's a nagging warning, other times it's like this- an edge of panic, a feeling like I can't breathe if I'm not moving.” Pausing to search his gaze, she found it… uncomfortable in understanding. “Do… you feel that way too?”

He conceded his answer with a sense of foreboding, “That is how it always feels for me.”

They started off early that day, a more even pace to save their mounts and to cover more ground.

She had asked Cole quietly, “What was that song?” He turned his head, puzzled. Speaking far too loudly- “What song?” Her attempt to hush him failed, yet she persisted in harsh whispers, “You know, the song last night- The elven one? The one I could hear? I thought it was you.” The spirit boy shook his head, “It wasn’t me, though it was very beautiful. Solas liked it a lot, it reminded him of home.” Solas was now staring again. She met his gaze, curious as to what she had sung, what the words meant- yet he offered no answers.

* * *

The plains stretched out before them golden, yet tarnished. A beaten and bloody reflection of the dream, of the comforting memory she missed. Smoke from a myriad of fires darkened the horizon, broken spears, standards and siege equipment littered the paths that had once been roads. Hasty graves marked by swords lay between piles of bodies not burned enough to keep them from rising. Corpses both unliving and dead littered the hills. Demons prowled in packs, rage left blackened ground in its wake and there were _so many_ of them. The crisscrossed scars they left upon the earth were only the latest manifestation of all the wrongs wrought in this place that had once stood for peace. Her right hand twitched at the reminder, yet it was the sudden sense of direction that had her breath caught in her throat. It pulled her from where she stood, her consciousness ferried across the war torn landscape through a lone spot of green, out the other side to follow a stream into a wide river. Near the bank she had her answer.

Solas caught her gaze as she returned to her body, reeling with the sensation and the redoubled sense of urgency. The exhausted pained look she wore was mirrored on him. The last several nights of their trip had all been plagued by nightmares of what lay in store for them. They could waste no more time.

"This way, quickly-"

They cut their way to the grove with little difficulty and she hesitated for only a few moments at the unmistakable green glow of a Fade rift streaming through the trees before turning to follow the other path.

"You wanna tell me what the hell's going on Boss?"

"I'm sorry Bull, there's no time. _Please_ trust me, this is urgent. We'll come back for it."

He grunted his dissent, but he relented for now.

They turned the bend in the pass and her hands drifted to her daggers, preparing to draw at the voices that echoed towards them. She skidded to a halt- faced instead with armed elves, not freedmen blocking the path. _Dalish._ She cursed herself louder than she should have as her companions halted at her side. Harding had mentioned a clan in the region yet she hadn't expected to run into them this soon. That they had to be the worst scouts she’d ever seen did not quell the snaking threads of fear that crept upon her as they turned. Despite the ample amount of noise that preceded their sprint through the pass, it was only once they halted did the lazy relaxation stiffen to tension as the elves set eyes on them. Looking first to Bull, then to her- ignoring both Solas and Cole altogether as recognition emerged there. The stark lines on her face were perhaps less telling than the pelt she insisted on wearing. She cursed herself again more quietly as the groan of bowstrings pulled taught filled the silence. _She should have just kept running._ Their leader briefly shifted his gaze from her as he clearly addressed Bull.

“You harbor a monster in your midst.”

Cole spoke up, “That's not a very nice thing to say, he can't help his horns.”

She snorted as the scouts shot Cole looks as pointed as their arrows, their bewilderment suggesting they hadn’t been able to see him before. Solas’ anger reached her moments before the darkened tone of curses in their shared tongue shot forth, the jumpy elves now staring at him with confusion at the words they didn’t know. She took a half step forward drawing their focus as well as their bows back to herself, "They mean me."

" _You_ will go no further _Era’harellan_."

Her eyes narrowed at the title, that was a new one. "I will go where I wish. I have no interest in your clan. I have urgent business elsewhere."

It was abundantly apparent they didn't believe a word she said. Her focus shifted as more corpses came into view, shuffling up the path behind the elves. Yet she dared not move with those arrows trained on her. A brief nod to Cole and the spirit took off, vanishing to reappear behind the shamblers- deftly cutting them down as the elves turned towards the commotion. She felt the barrier settle over her as Solas took up her hand, leading her through the pass as the elves shouted at them to halt. She paid them no mind, all her focus on the anger he exuded, the way he snarled at them as they drew level. The warning in his eyes. The careful grasp he kept on her. It was a reversal of everything the Dalish believed- the Dread Wolf guided her, led her from harm's way. She hadn't realized precisely what that meant to her until that moment. Recalling the jeers and insults that had been hurled her way. The Dread Wolf's bitch, Fen’Harel’s whore, that he would use her until there was nothing left, that she would die at his hand, that she would become him- twisted up and mad inside, that she would destroy them all. His hand firmly in hers invoked a profound sense of calm that overpowered the reflexive fear of her people she had tried to bury deep. He glanced back at her then, a small reassuring smile on his face, and she could have sworn that time had stopped.

The first arrow shattered her waning barrier just as Bull called out in warning, and the second lodged itself in her shoulder. It drove the air from her as everything ground to a halt. Pain bloomed across her chest even as it reached through their bond. Solas’ shift back to anger brought on a flicker in the air so much like the nearly tangible darkness that warped his form in her dreams. She staggered forward intending to keep him from retaliating, and he swiftly caught her, yet it was Cole who turned on them in fury.

“You will not hurt her!”

The air wavered around the scouts beyond Cole’s outstretched hand. His gaze firmly on the ground before them as they lowered their weapons. _“Forget.”_ Solas immediately picked her up and took off through the pass and didn’t stop until they were well beyond the stream, in the shadow of a tall column of stone. Cole had urged them on, shielding them all from notice as they had fled across the top of the opposite bank, dangerously close to the Dalish camp and another Fade rift.

They were close, she could feel it in more than the tension her lover carried as he set her down prying loose her right spaulder to assess the wound. A short sharp sigh left him as he discovered what she already knew, it was a shallow hit. A lucky shot through a weak point in her armor, yet it had still managed to arrest the projectile enough to only sink in a few inches. Solas wrapped an arm securely around her waist, soft reassuring words in her ear as she felt the slight tremor in his grip travel down the shaft of the arrow. She bit her lip, nodding sharply as she focused on where Bull stood alert, scanning the field, his two-handed maul- she cried out as the arrow pulled free. Gasping as the healing spell washed over her, his face full of concern as he pulled her to her feet. “Are you ok vhenan?” She nodded, a deep shuddering breath, “I wish they’d take it easy on this arm.” She chuckled weakly, rolling her shoulder. It was stiff and borderline useless but it would have to do. Solas shot her a pointed look laced with worry, she sighed her resignation, stepping into his embrace. “I will be fine vhenan’ara. Thank you.” She briefly nuzzled her face in his mantle, wishing more than anything they were back at Skyhold.

They continued on once she caught her breath, barely pausing to take in the evidence of bandits. The sight that loomed before them stopped her cold. Not Wisdom but Pride, pained, ensnared, terrified. She gasped. “ _Elgar’arla…_ No- No _no_ we can fix this, it might not be too late! Attack the pillars, overturn them, shatter them- whatever it takes. Bull- I know this is backwards, but please keep her attention and don't harm her. She is not herself.” He grimaced and gave a sharp nod, steeling himself for the charge.

A trio of mages dashed towards them as she lit her daggers, expending more magic than normal to compensate for her weakened right arm. She couldn't understand what they said beyond how readily they implicated themselves in Wisdom's capture. The rapidly darkening intent she felt from Solas informed her he'd caught the same.

They ignored their pleas and rushed in. She launched herself at the nearest pillar, fade stepping successfully without so much as a thought as she charged through it. The ward contained within weakened as she brought the molten wrath of her daggers down upon it. Striking out at the ward- her daggers not so much cutting into the stone as directly severing what lay inside them, the pillar crumbled. She spared a glance at Bull as he shattered his, the demon that was Wisdom lumbering towards him. Calling it out quickly, she dashed onward to the next. Solas had pulverized one already with a well-placed veil strike and Cole was nearly finished with dismantling another. She eviscerated one more and the trap finally broke. It shattered outward with force on the edge of a small shockwave. She dropped with exhaustion to her knees as the uncomfortable weight in her chest lifted- only to be replaced by another.

The towering demon had shifted to the ageless elven woman she remembered. Darkened, where she was once fair- It hadn't taken the despairing look on Solas' face, the budding grief he felt, nor their words laden with farewells for her to know in her heart she'd finally failed whatever guided her. Wisdom spared a moment to turn to her, fleeting words, a plea- _"Look after him, please."_ She nodded meaningfully, swallowing roughly around the knot of grief rising in her throat as she watched Solas release the spirit.

His resignation hurt more than his anger. He accepted her death as though it had been an eventuality. She barely had time to stumble to her feet as Solas shifted once more, descending on the mages in full fury. Watching the heated exchange, she couldn't bring herself to step in- hardly noticing that neither Bull nor Cole did either.

The heated exchange only grew more so.

_He set them on fire._

She clutched her right arm, remembering how it felt. Trying to quell the discomfort that rose in her as they screamed. Screams that sounded as desperate as her own had. She shook, worried for Solas, the things he felt were unlike anything she'd seen in him. He was well into the darkness that lurked beyond angry, he was rage, despair, vengeance. It was deeply unsettling... Yet she did not feel he erred in his judgement. It worried her further that she may have donned his bias, but ultimately… it was not her judgement to make.

He turned to her, and the grip on her arm did not escape his notice. She barely felt the weighted apology, the insurmountable gratitude breaking the embroiled surface of his scarcely contained grief. She nodded slowly, knowing what he wished, conveying all she could in reassurance. He turned and she watched him leave without a spoken word. Her heart went with him as she sank back to the ground.

"Bull." The Qunari trudged to her, sitting heavily with a thud as Cole flitted about anxiously- unnerved in a way she hadn't seen him since Haven. "I'll tell you what I can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I feel like I've drank from the Vir'abelasan. My head is so full of this.
> 
>  **[VAR VHEN?! IR BANAL FALON MALIN SA’NAN]** = Our people?! I am no friend, your/my blood [is my] one revenge (last revenge/vengeance) alternatively- your blood is my price. 
> 
> Essentially I mean it as "Fuck you to the void. You hurt me, I am no ally of yours." but spelling that out would have been quite wordy for a moment of rage. Plus- "game of intents" is my new favorite excuse.
> 
>  **[Era'Harellan]** = an extension of Era'Harel "Mage demon" To make it Mage betrayer - meant to denote a first, or second who turned their back on the responsibility of leading the clan, usually while also harming the clan in some way. I imagine a keeper would be denoted as _Era'Hahr'ellan_ or something similar. 
> 
> **[Elgar'arla]** = Spirit trap. 
> 
>  
> 
> I freakin love Dagna. Since I didn't describe the daggers in ridiculous detail here they are - [and they glow!](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/post/144489687825/playing-dagna-for-a-moment-i-decided-to-actually)
> 
> If you don't mind, direct your attention to [this anon poll](http://www.strawpoll.me/11060070/r) so I can get a better grasp on how people feel about this fic in relation to chapter 10. ie. I don't know if you're here because of it or despite it.


	22. In Which Pride Learned Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disappointing update is disappointing.  
> NOT A NEW CHAPTER.  
> Split chapter 21 in half, because it needed to happen.  
> Because it was stupid not to in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wounded, wisdom waned. Hopeless, he hurt.  
> Purpose, paths predetermined?  
> Renewed relief, respite...
> 
> [Revas](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/post/151812521860/its-been-one-of-those-days-ref).

He'd fled. His anguish, the gaping maw of it was too much to bear in the presence of others, too overwhelming to maintain the façade they thought he was. The look on her face, the quiet fear he’d felt from her. He’d been blinded by his rage, the mages deserved what they received- yet he should not have showed her what he could lower himself to. Especially not with the memory of fire still etched into her skin. It was yet another failure in his mounting legacy of loss. His heart would understand, or she wouldn’t. He could not worry about what he would do to their bond, what he would task her to endure. She was strong, if anyone could cope with his misery... He paused in the archway, his breath heavy with a sigh. She had helped him in every way she could. Her fury as she made short work of the binding circle echoed his own- yet it had been entirely hers. He had been grateful, but even their combined efforts had not been enough.

He descended into the deserted ruin that was defeat, warded the entrance and succumbed to his grief in full. The cold unyielding stone echoed everything he released back to him, focusing it sharply inward. A thousand knives rent and tore and it should have been his undoing. But for all the pain, one lone echo nearly lost among the rest healed instead of hurt. A small reminder that he wasn’t alone. She did not shy away- treading carefully where even Compassion dared not, doing nothing to stifle her own grief, instead it poured through her as she commiserated. It flowed back to him, _changed_. It was only a small comfort, yet even so- it anchored him as all else was lost.

He hid the weight of all his grief in the loss of Wisdom. He mourned her truly, but he also mourned Felassan, he had been right, yet it didn’t matter now. _It couldn’t matter._ He mourned his heart, he never should have bound her. The markings on her face never should have existed. He mourned what he'd done to his people. He mourned his next impending failure, surely without Wisdom there was no way he could succeed.

Time lost its meaning, not even here mired in the slow current that should be a swift river, only the tide of anguish held any significance. He cursed the wretched world, he cursed the senseless creatures that inhabited it, he cursed his inability to stop them. _He cursed himself._ The sharp edged fear of their transgressions called back to his own past.

A fate that almost befell him once.

He let the fade claim him, intending to dream of the place where his friend once dwelled. It was a fitful sleep, and his focus was not its usual clarity.

* * *

She was running out of excuses for why she kept shaking, why she'd stifle a sob randomly, why tears would just start streaming down her face unbidden.

She had told Bull about the dreams, why it had been so urgent. He was unsettled to say the least, but surprisingly Cole helped him understand. She apologized profusely when he confessed in terse terms his fear of demons, waving away her mortification at what she’d asked him to do in that fight- after all she couldn't have known. She got the feeling it helped to know her strange circumstance wasn't some new development, that she'd dealt with it for years without any sort of possession- well as far as she knew. But even with acceptance of her strange dreams, they couldn't know of the bond, of what her lover was. And though she suspected Cole knew more than she liked- he kept silent about it. The depth of grief she felt in their bond was overwhelming. Yet, it was the fact she couldn't save Wisdom, her failure, that brought her low. The source was both within her and beyond her, beyond even the bond. Whatever had sent her grieved with the rest.

They slowly adjusted in the wake of what had happened, as well as being one person short. Exhaustion was a tangible thing for them all, yet there were no complaints as she led them all over the scarred plains. Sealing neglected rifts, cutting down demons and corpses and men little more than monsters disguised as freedom. Her attention was stretched thin, unused to casting barriers and healing by tag- actually having to physically touch them as she darted about. Her daggers did not recommend her well for the supporting role Solas took on so well, but she managed and they came out of it mostly unscathed. Though it meant she expended her mana at an unsustainable rate- even with the ward Solas had taught her. It forced her to take several lyrium potions over the course of the afternoon. It left her shaky and decidedly wrong-footed, but she managed.

When the sun had sunk enough to caress the horizon they'd finally decided to set camp outside an Elven ruin for the night. The smoke in the air made for a bloody sunset, the clouds as slashed with red as the stained earth. It was fitting. They were uncomfortably close to the Dalish camp, but they sorely needed the use of the stream and this section hadn't been poisoned by war... _recently_. It was a chance she was willing to take, and she was far too tired to keep searching for a better spot. She had healed the worst of their wounds, scratches and scrapes, small cuts, before informing Bull that she was going to wander the ruin alone. He nodded and set her with a look that conveyed he understood. She wasn’t the least bit surprised, between Cole’s vocal thoughts on Wisdom, and the war, and the elves, and numerous vague references to tragedy all piled up on top of her poorly concealed emotions- it had to be pretty obvious that she needed a moment alone.

There were shades roaming the ancient burial ground like living shadows. She commiserated briefly, hunched and twisted under the weight of their corruption- they looked like she felt inside. But she couldn't let them linger so she gathered her mana, lighting her daggers, fade stepping to them with an ease that was still surprising- she eviscerated them in her fury, _his fury_. All too soon she stood panting, alone once more, the circle of their lingering essence evaporating around her. There had been far too few of them to let off the bottomless well of her pent up tension, even with the afternoon spent righting the region. She slumped slowly to the ground, laying back uncomfortably upon the broken stones as she finally let _his_ grief pour from her unhindered. It was a pain so profound she was certain there would be no end to it.

The broken walls of the ruin arched high over the graves like the bleached and weathered bones of a carcass so old- her people couldn't even properly remember what it had once been. It only served to reinforce the death and loss this land had been dealt. She couldn't fathom what brand of hope could possibly linger that kept the elves returning to this dismal place. She lay there quietly sobbing until just before the sun gave up its grip on the land, the dark lengthening to blind the horrors of its reign. Trying to rein herself in- she couldn't leave the two of them now. The Dirthavaren was still dangerous, and they wouldn't have a sufficient defense even if Cole kept watch and didn't sleep. _Oh how she longed for sleep_ , but there wasn't going to be relief in dreams. Not from this. She was suddenly afraid- what if what guided her turned on her for her failure?

Something warm brushed against her markings, it was strangely calming, light, reassuring. She reached up to touch what had touched her... But there was nothing there. It must have been her imagination- she was beyond exhausted. A deep sigh shifted her that threatened to turn into a yawn, and the stiffness in her right arm made itself known. She gathered the will to stand up, drying her face as she righted her pelt.

A muffled descent. The sounds of rocks scraping under foot despite the prowess of the elf who crept along. A bow string relaxed.

She stilled, forcibly relaxing her posture, waiting, listening. A voice as sharp and rough as the land around them called out, little more than a growl.

" _You._ Keeper Hawen wishes to speak with you. You will come with me."

She turned slowly towards the hunter, quelling the fear that threatened to rise. The stone mercifully quiet beneath her feet. "I cannot leave my companions unprotected, may they accompany me to the edge of your camp? One of our number has left us, I cannot leave them as well."

The shrouded hunter considered the request warily. "Only to the edge of camp."

Eager to not be alone with the reticent elf, she strode off towards where Bull was starting to set a tent. Cole had been confused when they had to take it back down and pack up to move, but Bull understood something more serious was going on, eyeing the distant hunter and nodding, moving without complaint. She'd looked to the hunter waiting to see if the woman wanted to lead or follow to keep an eye on her. The hunter nodded sharply at her in the rough direction of their camp. _Ah so she was to walk ahead, wonderful._ Her teeth ground slightly as she set her jaw, trying to ignore how well turning her back on these elves had gone this morning. Although, focusing on not walking to her death had actually managed to push out Solas’ grief for now and she was mildly thankful. She needed her wits about her, not sure where this unexpected summons was going.

She bade Bull and Cole to set their camp by the stream within sight of the Dalish encampment, just beyond their aravels. They would be watched, but they shouldn't come to harm, _she hoped_. Either way the two of them were more than capable of seeing a threat before it made itself known. She shot a meaningful look at Bull, trusting him to keep the first watch- the next few minutes would be the most dangerous.

The hunter snapped at her impatiently as they took the lead, escorting her past the grazing halla and barrier-like arrangement of aravels. Hesitation held her, fearing to tread to the center of their camp where keeper Hawen waited. She jumped slightly at the snort in her ear and the damp nose that nudged her, eyeing _Hanal’ghilan_ in her peripheral, attempting to nudge her onward. Sucking her breath in through her teeth she reluctantly crossed the threshold of their camp, hoping this wouldn’t go as badly as she feared.

The wizened keeper looked over her face, lingering on her vallaslin, the wolf pelt she wore, and her modified Dalish armor. She slightly inclined her head, but said nothing, waiting trying to look braver than she felt under such stern scrutiny and the chorus of distrustful eyes that glared unblinking from the edges.

“We have been warned about you.”

“I am not surprised.”

He regarded her carefully. “Why are you here?”

She considered this while trying to stifle her amusement- _now that was quite a question_. Her immediate reaction was to retort with _‘because you invited me’_ , but being snide was probably not going to win her any points with the old man. “I am here as a favor to a friend.”

“Does this favor have anything to do with _Hanal'ghilan_? With the ancient burial grounds of our people?”

_Ah- so they had the wrong idea, shit,_ “No.”

“Then why send her to us? Why clear the grounds of demons? Why shed your grief in that place of sorrow, when you are marked for the traitor?”

She fought to conceal her temper and leveled the man with what she hoped was a calm gaze. “ _Hanal'ghilan_ was in danger from wolves and freemen, I spared her. Sending her to you was for her own protection. I needed a place to spill my grief, the burial ground was close, the demons an inconvenience. I am sworn to right the world and I could not leave them there, just as I could not leave the rift around the river bend. Just as I could not deny coming here to help my companion.” She sighed, firmly denying helping the clan covertly. If they thought that she was trying to in-debt them to her then their retribution could be swift. If she was neutral however, even a bit self-serving... she held her breath thankful it had not been a lie.

He visibly relaxed, the formal tension draining from his shoulders. A small tired sigh preceding his reply, “Then you are not here to lead us astray?”

She finally grumbled, allowing her calm facade to break in her exhaustion. “I honestly wish your people could imagine me capable of anything else. No matter what I do, I am always the monster.” The anchor sparked as she ran it down her face and she winced, cursing at it’s mutiny under her breath. “No-” She met his gaze again, “I am not here to destroy your people. I had intended to avoid your clan entirely after your hunters up in the pass… well, _attacked_ me. They are, by the way, completely fine and still searching for safe passage, though I was probably not meant to overhear that.”

Keeper Hawen sighed deeply, the shadows cast by the firelight deepening his lines of age. “It is fitting, I suppose, that the _Harellan's_ wolf is the source of the most hope we've had in months.”

She watched him curiously. Unsurprised at only one of those admissions. The last _Arlathvhen_ had been shortly after her exile. No doubt all the keepers were aware of what she was. Though she found herself wishing her sex life wasn't so well known. That she’d given him hope on the other hand… she wondered briefly how bleak their situation was before quelling it. “May I go?”

He looked at her questioningly, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as if trying to decide whether or not he should say something. After several false starts his mouth won. “I... Perhaps you would be willing to share our food and fire, in exchange… would you share your knowledge with us?”

Her brows furrowed at the admission, skepticism overshadowed shock. Was he really asking to talk with her? What could he want to know? She weighed her words carefully, “Would you be willing to listen?”

He spoke low, low enough only for her to hear, _“Dread wolf take us. Yes I would.”_

She fought the urge to chuckle at that. No doubt he would not enjoy Fen'Harel's passionate ministrations the way she did. He led her past the idle and openly distrustful members of his clan to the campfire, “Do you wish for your companions to join us?”

She shook her head, “No, they have had a long day. They deserve their rest if they want it. If they could be given a note? An assurance that I am unharmed?” The keeper nodded, waving over an idle scout, quickly conveying her wish. They waited as the scout took off, returning shortly to confirm the task complete with a nod. She finally relaxed and slowly sank to the ground, crossing her legs. A broken sigh escaped her as she watched the keeper sit across the fire from her. “What would you know?”

* * *

He walked the shifting domain that once contained Wisdom. It had succumbed completely in her absence. The labyrinth now completely wild, the pathways contained a danger that had not before been allowed to exist in her presence. Any that dare walk it now ran the risk of never returning, the risk of receiving madness instead of knowledge.

His grief was his only company, the darkened shadow of it ever stalked his steps of late. Nearly tangible here- where intent ruled all. A bright shimmer caught his eye, he turned, sprinting towards the glow to outrun the inevitable. He found the spot wisdom once favored, small bright wisps lingered in an incoherent hive, once part of a whole. He sunk to his knees before it, jaws of an aching pit lovingly closed shut around him.

Wisdom was truly lost to him.

His anguish poured from him once more, warping the impressionable world around him. It made him a beacon, such strong sentiments were never wise in the Fade. Without wisdom he would surely fail as he always had, as he was doing now. Spirits flitted through the domain, he was fleetingly aware of them observing his grief yet none dared interfere. He hardly noticed, and he could not bring himself to care. Not even when a strong presence pulled at his senses could he pull himself away. A voice called out to him, notes both foreign and... _Familiar_. It had an ethereal quality, many voices speaking in tandem. It was mostly feminine, and ancient.

_“The wolf seized freedom and he caught our attention.”_

_“The wolf sought to squander his gift, unfettered yet so misguided, freedom beckoned and the wolf found Wisdom.”_

_“The wolf was Pride, yet the wolf overcame his pride for Wisdom.”_

_“In time Pride learned well, the way of things unveiled.”_

_“We saw what Pride rejected and loved him for it.”_

_“The wolf was the first of the best to hold us dear so we guided Pride quietly, at a distance, waiting.”_

_“Pride grew to love freedom, cherished us, and ensured all could know us. Ensured all could find Wisdom.”_

_“We watched the wolf rise, burdened with sorrow, duty. We watched the world fall. We should not have stood by.”_

_“Freedom paid a heavy price. Sundered, trading one cage for another. We failed and all suffer.”_

_“And now Wisdom lies broken, and Pride is not what he once was.”_

_“We could not save her. But we can still save him.”_

The words were uncomfortably familiar in their portent. His brow furrowed as a warm hand fell to his shoulder. It carried a calm that freed him from his misery. The jaws relinquished their hold on him as he turned to face the spirit who dared trespass upon his grief. His eyes widening in disbelief, reflexively backing away from its touch as he rose to his feet.

_It was her._ This spirit looked like his Revas past the blurred lines of her shifting form. The voice, _her voice_ , it was older and muddled but that lilting carefree tone... It was irrevocably hers. The soft yellow glow of her form was strangely comforting, familiar... Then he realized why.

_It was precisely the same color of her eyes._

The spirit smiled sadly at him. _“We are Freedom. And we have watched you long Pride.”_

His mind raced, stumbling over questions in his search for the correct one, there were too many of them. He felt the impact of Wisdom's death renewed, his friend would have known the right questions. He shook his head. It was too much to process, yet the spirit waited patiently. He took a deep breath.

_“Why take her form?”_

_“Our form is our own. One of many that resonate strongly with us.”_

He shifted uncomfortably, what did that mean? _“She is a part of you?”_

_“She is us.”_

A quiet gasp left him, carrying with it the confirmation, _“Then you- The dreams... You are the one that guides her, the one that has made her forget?”_

The spirit nodded solemnly, _“Yes, we are responsible for both. She has been made to forget, until the time is right.”_

_“To what end? Why have you made her forget? Why meddle in her life?”_

_“We guided you to each other. You will need her. You will need us as we need you. She agreed to our terms, though now she does not remember them. She works best under her own power, knowledge of us, of you could have led her to failure. Could still lead to failure.”_

His heart sank. Had she been made to love him as well? Had she not chosen him of her own free will? His grief returned as he sank back down. _“Failure? What failure? What is your purpose?”_

The spirit shook its head, the play of light shifting over the wisps that remained of his friend painfully drew his attention. _“We have guided her, but we have been yours since you chose us. We chose you freely, just as she chose you. She has been touched by Wisdom. Do not give up on her, do not give up on us. You cannot falter now.”_

Touched by Wisdom? He knew the spirit was offering him something intriguing only to detract from the fact it refused to answer his questions directly. He also knew it would read his intent to outwit it, he sighed- remembering then what Wisdom had told him. _“How is it I do not corrupt her nature, how is it I do not corrupt yours? What of her markings? Why guide her to me?”_ He watched a brilliant smile spread across the spirit’s blurred features, finding a small comfort in such a free expression on the face that looked so much like _hers_. The ache in his chest grew, hoping she was safe in his absence.

_“We will show you. We will help you understand.”_

The spirit paced towards him, sinking down to meet his gaze. He sat painfully still, enthralled with his indecision to allow such a thing as its glowing ghostly hand slowly reached out to him, a single outstretched finger pressing warmly between his brows. It brought forth a gentle current of familiarity that carried memory, visions, ancient things long forgotten.

_Then he saw what he had been before._

He sought to break the connection. “No _please_ , do not show me that- I cannot relive that failure.” The spirit broke off the vision, swiftly encircling him in a warm embrace. _“It is okay Wisdom, that past cannot hurt you now.”_ He snarled weakly, _“Do not call me by that name!”_ The soft rush of sighs that fell from her as she drew back conveyed impatience- that was closer to what he expected of a spirit such as her. _“Pride that comes with knowledge that comes with time- That failure is not your own. She should never have convinced you to manifest physically. What you are is not your fault. You wanted to help, your wish went wrong, she wasn't ready to guide you- but she **never** should have marked you. That is why you could not return to what you were. Please, we need you to see. You have forgotten more than you realize.”_

His protest was half-hearted, disquieted with the spirit’s accuracy. _“Your interpretation is but one of many.”_

The spirit acknowledged his truth. _“Yes and no. The interpretation we carry is not one, but many. We have seen through many eyes Pride, weigh ours against what lingers of your own. Judge the consensus not only for its parts. Freedom is biased in a way you are well familiar with. We trust you to see the truth in our telling.”_

His grief changed shape as the undisputable reason of its argument sank in, older, formless, many eyed, that pain had no true name to endure. The warmth that existed in her voice- the force of her nature all at once welcomed it in, and kept it at bay. He knew then it would not hurt him, not while she held him. His jaw tensed as he nodded.

_“These things could not be predicted.”_

And with that ominous portent the spirit mired him in the past once more.

He saw his manifestation, pulled across too sharply. His new form twisted in pain briefly as he lost much of what he had been. Panic gripped the fair woman who clutched him- focus as she sought to stabilize his essence. The shadow that sank into him- it answered the call that did not call it. _Many eyed- proud_. He collapsed whole, but he had _changed_. The very first thing he had done was fail her. Waking not as Wisdom, but Pride. His friend hid her disappointment well, but he knew, he was no longer the help she needed. Yet he strived to be that- ever reaching for what he had been, even as it frustratingly slipped away.

Proud steps through twining stone, floating crystal- spells woven in his wake. Woken power like a second skin. He was marked by more than intended- marked by her- marked by dread. They watched his ascent.

Pride grew to resent the marks, too important to be claimed- _he should have his own_. Knowledge was devoured, spells cast, binding lines burned away. Unbound, he was free, and he caught their attention. The best did not approve of his first rebellion. He argued, angered- his friend defended him and only by her grace was he allowed to remain- not cast out to be forgotten. He sought to emulate such grace and care. He turned his eyes to the people.

The darkened study surfaced, dimly lit by candle- no magic to interfere with what he wrought. Scarlet ink stained his fingers- the brush caressed his bare face. Leaving trails of his work proudly borne painstakingly crafted. The care with which he perfected it- washing his hands of the stain. The spell that sank it in deep- where none would see it unless he wished.

His pride grew in his secret. Knowing locked deep, one day he would lead as she did, take those who asked into his care. He would protect them. He wandered, waiting, walking the lands between even as he walked the dreams. Even as he walked the shadows where things lay uncomfortably forgotten. _Then he met what he had been._ Pain grew in his heart to see in the mirror dark where he had once been just as fair. Fair like his friend, dark with what carried no name. He now carried both but longed once more for Wisdom.

He sought knowledge, lingering between, growing stronger- nearly forgotten by the people in his absence. Wisdom guided, knowing, patient. Golden fields where he lay- time sought to hold him there at the request of the sun but he broke free with the grace of the moon. It needled at him- a wrongness unexplained. Wisdom enlightened, and Pride fell at last.

He rose among the people, in secret, his name a mere whisper. Faces marred, marked a sea of servitude. Abuses abundant, not an eye that mattered cast upon such small lives- such important lives.

He sealed his secret. Pride twisted dark and howling, the study burned, cleansed. Memories sought and devoured. Nothing would remain of his mistake- _nothing._

He rose up cunning, concealed Pride, sagaciously subversive- a game played to crown him. Fought for recognition, he won much more. His name remembered, his acceptance grudging among the best. They called for him to mark the people, they called for him to join them. Temples raised called to his shadow, statues and still he stayed his hand.

_They demanded he mark them._ And so he did- he was fire- bitter and burned, his mark was _nothing_. Freed, bare, unbound as he once had been. Now bound by duty to them. He brought them Wisdom he brought them Freedom, they worshipped him yet he found not pleasure but pain. He stripped himself of Pride- plain, poor, he walked among them as _The Wolf_.

Yet still they raised him up and he carried them up with him.

His friend fell for her mistake called Pride. The best turned- bitter darkness, a sickness threaded through them. It spread. Sharp knives mid descent to steal the life of the only one who cared.

Pride warred with pain. Pride warred with them. Pride warred with himself.

He felled them _all_ and raised their undoing.

He slept in the death of his shattered state and what he once loved fell to ruin. Pain grew whole once more. The best lay darkened- gathering strength in whispers.

His shattered form reunified and he woke to deeds left undone. He woke to his efforts failed. He woke to his people laid low in the price that was meant to be his.

He woke alone.

The spirit that held him hummed approvingly in his silence and he knew it was aware of his growing resolve. Being faced with what was in such _clarity_ that far surpassed his own grounded him more surely than its touch. Much of what was contained within had been hard to look at directly, before he had turned away- refused to focus... _He could do so no longer._

The urgency of warmth returned as more memories were passed to him- but to his surprise they were not his own.

_The spirit showed him Revas._

He watched her grow through the years. Brighter here than possible when looked upon in waking. There was something more to her- _a beacon_ , before the anchor had ever touched her. It glowed with her eyes in the same hue that held him. Understanding settled in him as he watched her interact with the spirit- memories she had forgotten. She had always been _Revas_ \- shirking her duties, slipping away despite attempts to catch her. Far more suited as the rogue than the mage yet she slowly succumbed to duty as she grudgingly accepted what others tasked of her. He smiled as she worked to master her magic- excelling only in ways that contradicted their teachings. The darkness of duty had been kept at bay by her light for many years- and it pained him when it finally won. Caged her- she fought but it's bonds only grew. Cornered- he finally saw the memory that changed everything.

The spirit sought her out, asked her for help, imparted all that would be required of her. _Asked_ her to bear his markings, _asked_ her to find him and confessed she would not remember any of her task until the time was right. His heart stopped when she _agreed_ \- she had not been asked to love him, not been tasked with stopping him.

She was given the seeds of knowledge to help her survive and he watched her forget the encounter. He inhaled sharply when he saw her keeper's vision through the spirit’s eyes, when he saw them mark her with his blood writing through hers. She had been upset, furious even, yet she didn't fight it... _Why?_

_"Because she wasn't afraid of the markings, she was afraid of her people. It is a fear that lingers in her even now."_

The visions came quicker, learning the magic to fight, the magic to hide. The dreams that showed her where to free someone, those dreams that guided her in the right direction- to be in the right place to find him. He got the distinct impression the spirit hadn't showed him everything- and yet he understood. Whatever it’s hidden motives- it simply wished to help and her love was real. His own memory dawned on him as the memories ceased- she had tried to pursue him before she knew he was _Fen'Harel_. She had wanted _him_. A rueful smile rose with the realization. It seemed he was still capable of being a fool.

The spirit nodded, a bright smile lit her features, pressing one last memory into him before he could raise the indignation at its unnecessary agreement. Her hand resting warmly on his cheek as he instinctively leaned into the touch.

He saw his little wolf, she was in a Dalish camp? He didn't immediately recognize the place, yet she was dressed as she had been when he left her, the old bandage still wrapped about her arm.

_“This is where she is now.”_

He focused on the vision, on her voice. She was talking to an elder, the keeper of the clan in the Dales? His disbelief grew- the old man was listening to what she had to say, asking her questions? _Willingly?_ What had she done to gain his favor?

_“She did what she does best, freeing unfortunate souls, giving them hope.”_

He watched as the keeper asked her questions about the past, about the Elvhen. About things long lost, and she answered with knowledge he had given her. They listened to her in a way unlike they had ever listened to him. They had always dismissed him and his words, sent him away with hate in his heart. It filled him with an unbidden pride, a fierce fondness. How easily she could turn their hearts, their ears to her. He suddenly wished he’d told her everything, if not only because she deserved to know, but also so she could answer them more completely. With that he found his answer- they could accept her, they might accept him.

_“Wisdom is not lost. Wisdom exists in many things and you are not so far from that nature as you believe. Wisdom exists in her. Trust her, she knows in her heart what is right. Something new will grow here in time. If you do not fail it will have the chance to grow into something wonderful.”_ The ancient spirit of freedom slowly released his face as she stood, the vision of his little wolf receding. _“You understand.”_

He nodded. Watching that brilliant smile glowing on her face, Revas' face. His purpose renewed, the spirit reminded him of what he had fought for, what he was and what he grew to be. It set his resolve, not everything was lost. She would help him, and he would return to her.

* * *

Solas had told her precious little about his past- about his time carrying the title _Fen'Harel_ , so she told them about how she saw Solas instead, thinly veiled as she spoke of the wolf. Told them of what he valued- what he fought for, how he viewed the world and the Fade. Skipping uncomfortably over the perceived betrayal she still didn't know the truth of. That he wouldn't speak of it spoke volumes, but she had no doubt there was reason behind whatever it was he'd done to spark such tales, if he'd truly even done it.

Sometime after she'd moved on to what he'd told her of Elvhenan, and the second bowl of a savory stew, Bull and Cole wandered in to camp. She waved them in with a smile she couldn't have worn earlier. Briefly introducing them as Bull sat stiffly by her right, and Cole... Well, _wandered_. She explained quietly to Hawen the nature of the boy- and was met with curiosity instead of fear. It was refreshing. She chatted animatedly as Hawen listened, a small careworn smile fixed firmly on his features.

It was after that when he expressed interest in her daggers. Confessing that his scouts had watched the entirety of her fight against the demons and they were all curious about how she managed it. So she passed them around as more of the clan turned up at the fireside. She freely explained her methods, the wards that were used and their construction. Bull was lightly dozing after his own dose of stew by the time she moved on to the spells used to move so quickly on the battlefield.

It felt good to let go of her fear. She sat quiet for a time as they talked excitedly amongst themselves, pouring over the craftsmanship, exclaiming their surprise that they were made by a dwarf no less. To see them so happy, full of hope- and to not be treated as a stranger looking in, much less a monster. She hadn't realized how much she missed it. She thought of Solas then, wishing he could see how they'd accepted her, how they'd accepted the things he told her. Maybe they all weren't so lost as she thought.

Cole lingered as she drew up schematics for them, though Bull had retired to their small camp once more. She spent time teaching the keeper the wards, the spells she employed in the hope that he could teach others. She had finally exhausted keeper Hawen's questions, and was about to stand to retire for the night when the keeper lifted his gaze from the fire to thank her.

“Since my first and second disappeared this is the most hope I've had.”

“Your first and second are missing?”

“Yes, my first went on a foolish excursion to the Emerald Graves, and my second, Valorin is missing without a trace.”

Her brows furrowed, “Valorin, valorin… I know that name...” The realization dawned on her as she reached into the pouch on her belt. A note and an amulet she had found earlier. “I think these are for you.”

Genuine shock spread across the man’s face, “These are... This is genuine? Lindiranae's talisman?”

She nodded, “I believe so, the wards were intact when I stumbled upon it. He had been looking for this when he… died. You have my condolences. Too much death exists in this place already.”

The keeper hung his head. A long sigh. “Thank you for this, it is something at least.” Hawen stood slowly and she stood as well with a slight stretch and a telling yawn. “Where will you go?” He regarded her curiously, and she realized she hadn't asked him much at all during the evening. “We had intended to head to the Emerald Graves.”

She nodded thoughtfully, “Hmmm, be careful. The reports I get out of there are not entirely good. Though, I’ll admit they’re better than the reports I got about here. That’s actually where I have to head next- to deal with the freemen as well as the Fade rifts.” She met his gaze again, fishing around in her pocket for a scrap of cloth she had picked up earlier. Passing her hand over it as her spell etched the Inquisition’s symbol into it. “If you have more questions, show this to anyone bearing that symbol, they will get a message to me and I will answer as soon as I am able.” He took the cloth from her with a slight bow, one that she returned before turning and leaving the camp. Stumbling tiredly towards their tents by the stream. She felt pleasantly light, and it was a marked improvement over the last time she’d left a Dalish camp.

Bull was dozing by the dwindling fire, Cole lingering quiet by his side. It was perhaps three hours past midnight and the sun would soon be on the rise again.

Bull grunted as she sat down, apparently he wasn’t as asleep as she thought. “I don't think I've ever met anyone with so much to deal with at once. I don't know how you do it Boss.”

She looked up at him, a small smile rising with her chuckle. “You know Bull, sometimes I don't know how I do it either.”

“Do you think Solas will be alright out there?”

"Wisdom knows enduring is pain. He hurts for her, another of many he couldn't save. He carries necessary deaths."

She gazed at Cole, pained anew at the observation, wondering briefly who else he hadn’t saved. Her breath held- she reached out to Solas, his sentiments were quieter, muted. He was probably sleeping, yet the tinge of sorrow was less than it had been, there was... Hope? She exhaled. “He'll be fine. You still fancy a trip to the Emerald Graves? I am beyond done with this place. I'll see if I can get Leliana's scouts to untangle that mess on the ramparts. Plus- it's probably not wet and dreary, and there’s probably not as many corpses… although I heard a terrible rumor about gigantic bears…”

He chuckled, clearly intrigued about what she found utterly terrifying. “Sounds good to me Boss, we going short-handed?”

She nodded, “I can't waste time sending for someone else to accompany us. We'll be fine. I'll take the rest of the watch, get some sleep Bull.”

He nodded, dusting himself off as he stood before crawling into the tent.

She settled more comfortably by the fire. She was tired, but she had so much to think about, much to reconsider. She started with the letter.

* * *

She had fallen asleep on her feet, nearly falling over- so Bull hoisted her to his shoulders despite her fade mumbled protest. Her arms crossed between his horns her head resting atop them, fast asleep as they walked back to where their mounts were tied at the Inquisition’s base camp.

~~-~~

Solas followed the muted tug in his chest, catching up just before they reached the forward camp. His heart had apparently stayed up all night, fast asleep on Bull's shoulders. He felt her stir in his proximity. They all paused as she grumbled. “This is a strange horse, too tall.” Bull laughed and her still bandaged arm swung across his face clumsily groping to shush the sudden noise. “Shhhhh- quiet Bucket, You’re too loud.” Even he chuckled when faced with the serious grimace she wore.

He helped affix their packs to her hart before he settled on his. Bull stood with his back to him, deftly helping to disentangle her as he pulled Revas into his lap. Carefully propping her up against his chest, one arm around her waist keeping her safe, the other wound into the reins. He stifled the shiver that threatened to shake her, her proximity had already begun to bring him a sense of peace. His heart rate soared, knowing what would come next. That their bond had already strengthened to that point briefly had him wondering how much time they had left before he’d have to present her the choice. He diverted his thoughts, he had made his and there was still time.

They set off at an easy pace, not to wake her. They were in no hurry now. Wondering what she dreamed of, he hoped it was happier than their dreams of late, happier than the reality that faced them.

“She's trying to find the golden field. She misses it.”

His head snapped in Cole's direction. “She's dreamed of it?”

“Yes, but then it vanished. Proud, pretty, there’s something important slipping away- the soft lines of his form, skin freckled in the sun, unbent, unburdened, unharmed. It feels like home- even the air lives here, buzzing against my skin- it _feels_ … and then it was gone.”

He gazed down at her curiously. They hadn't had much time spent alone lately, she hadn't mentioned that she had dreamed of his memory. He wondered what it meant, that it disappeared abruptly.... a soft sigh left him as he considered the spirit. It was likely it had interfered in some manner. Her assessment of his younger self didn't go unnoticed either. How much could she see of the burden he tried to hide from her?

The peace of her presence allowed him to step away from his grief for a time, to examine it, memorize it impartially. It allowed him to remember his time spent learning from his friend, the memories they had uncovered. It was cathartic and a perspective he’d sorely needed. She grounded him, anchored him- _his_ little wolf. He wondered a great many things as the voices of their companions fell away. And he lived for a time in the tug of her heart. Slow beats counting time… painfully numbered. He suddenly worried. He feared. Losing her would- a soft sigh. She hadn't had a moments rest since he'd claimed her, _fully_. He calmed his mind, his sharp sentiments would wake her this close.

After a time spent counted only by the passage of low rolling hills around them, Wisdom's loss began to sting again, _deeply_ as he delved further into it. He carried no illusion that it would not let up for a long time, if ever, even in spite of the hope that may grow from it. It must remain another pain to carry, another failure. He let it hurt, gently dissuading Cole's efforts. It was not a pain to be fixed. It was a pain to be endured, grieved, remembered. Yet despite the dull twinge of it in his chest, the woman in his arms softened the blow. He gazed down at her sleeping form, the soft sounds she made, the undignified way she drooled. It brought forth a smile he shouldn't have been capable of in his pain. He couldn't fight it, nor did he wish to. She had chosen her path, she had chosen to endure her many misfortunes, she had chosen to help him long before she met him. She had wanted him before she knew who he was. It wounded him, that he could not tell her- that he wouldn't be able to set her mind at ease. He did not know the plan the spirit had in store for them, for her, but he had chosen to trust it's judgement as far as she was concerned. After all- it had protected her this far. So he kept its silence. That he owed his early rediscovery of Wisdom to what guided her... He sighed as she stirred, he'd let his thoughts run away once more.

He felt her wake and though she did not stiffen, _he did_ , his eyes had drawn closed as she leaned into his protection, and he tried not to call attention to how she was pressed against him, or how readily he responded. _She noticed_ and he felt her acceptance, the smile before he heard it in her voice. “Mmmm. You came back.”

“I did.”

“I had wondered.”

“I learned what I needed.”

“Oh? What was that?”

“Wisdom exists in many things vhenan, and something new will grow there in time. It is likely it will not remember, but I will.”

A soft murmur of assent, “I like the sound of that.”

He wound her close, knowing what guided her likely wouldn't appreciate his hints, yet he never could resist testing her wit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[1/5/2017]**  
>  **Do I know where I'm going with this?** I do indeed.  
>  **Am I currently as of this note writing the next chapter?** ... nope. D:  
>  **Will I continue this?** ~~Sure am.~~ _Maybe_  
>  **When?** Oh gods I have no idea. 'Hopefully soon'  
>  **Do I take suggestions or prompts?** Hell yes I do.
> 
> I think that maybe covers everything. Maybe.  
> Have I fulfilled disappointment bingo yet? Sorry.
> 
> 08/08/17 - Not dead, but also not certain I'll finish this one... for reasons. It is a long story full of pain and I'm not sure my heart is in it. I may end this here or I might skip ahead a bit to parts I've already written. This was never meant to be this drawn out. I apologize for the fruitless wait.
> 
> 04/26/18 - Probably definitely skipping ahead. Things need to happen. It's gonna take me like a week just to reread this again I'm sure, but I'm trying not to overwhelm myself right off the bat so I'm gonna just eaaaase into this.
> 
> oh boy this is gonna be fun.


End file.
